


Adverse Reaction

by oyhumbug



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements, alternative history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-25
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyhumbug/pseuds/oyhumbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after Buffy's 17th birthday, she wakes up different, and it's more than just the fact that she's no longer a virgin. When Angel experienced his moment of true happiness, he didn't lose his soul; he lost something else, something much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted at fanfiction.net, LJ (oy_humbug2), and my own site (Delicious Infatuation).

**Adverse Reaction**

**Part One**

Buffy gasped.  
  
Ricocheting up off of the bed, she felt the blankets that had been gently tucked around her just moments before glance off her bare skin and float down to rest somewhere below on her lap. At the same time, though, she didn’t notice the abandoned covers. In fact, there was a part of her that didn’t realize anything but the intense, mind numbing pain that was washing through her entire form. Moments later, there was a hunger, a thirst that accompanied the concentrated agony, splitting her attentions in two.   
  
Nothing was like she had expected… and, still, Angel slept on.  
  
She didn’t wake him, though. Not yet. Before she did, if she did, she wanted to think through the throbbing and the desire wrecking havoc upon her body, but said choice of action was easier said than done. In fact, it was hard to think of anything beyond her suddenly relentless instincts.  
  
Feed.  
  
Drink.  
  
Take.  
  
It was beyond confusing.   
  
Despite the fact that she had been a virgin just a few mere hours before, Buffy wasn’t naïve. She had gone into sex with Angel with her eyes wide open. Yes, she loved him, and, yes, she had wanted – still did – to be with him, but she also knew that her first time wouldn’t be all sunshine and roses… or moonlight and jasmine. The fact that they had just returned from facing a demonic monster intent upon plunging the entire world straight into hell was proof enough of that.   
  
She had been prepared for the requisite twinge when her boyfriend first pushed into her, and, afterwards, she had expected to feel sore and tender, but this… The pain she was experiencing was excruciating. Blinding, searing, deafening, the young slayer could feel the beads of perspiration dampened her forehead, shoulders, and back. The moisture, brought forth as a result of the extreme discomfort, ran down her arms, her stomach, her cheeks, making her skin feel as though it was sizzling. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that she was on fire, burning from the outside in.  
  
As her body nearly convulsed from its aching, it was difficult for the pretty blonde to stop suffering long enough to analyze what was happening to her. Though there was no way for her to be sure what was happening to her, she could, at least, describe what the sensations felt like. It felt as though her blood was screaming through her veins, stretching, ripping, tearing them apart only to heal before she was even aware of them breaking. It felt as though her muscles were being extended and then snapped back together, stronger and more vital than they had been just moments before. And her bones almost felt like rubber, there but not necessarily needed any longer.   
  
A part of her wanted to laugh. Though it was an odd reaction, what else could she do when faced with such severe discomfort? Buffy could never regret what she and Angel had shared that evening together, but she could certainly lament the physical reaction her body was displaying. If this was what it felt like to become a woman, to finally be with a man, then she wasn’t sure sex was everything it had been cracked up to be.  
  
But, then again, she had not been with _a man_. She had been with Angel, a souled vampire, something not even the most star-crossed lover obsessed author could have cooked up some lonely night. And she was not just a regular woman; she was _the_ slayer. Perhaps that was why her body was reacting in such an agonizing way. Maybe, physically, she and her boyfriend were not as compatible as she had believed them to be. Although the idea saddened her, it made sense as well.  
  
Her superhuman strength only was triggered when in the throes of battle, but Angel’s was permanent. While they had been making love, to her, he had seemed perfectly gentle and sweet, tender and affectionate, and he had been. That she would never doubt. But maybe it had been harder for him to control his brute potency than she had thought, and, lost in the depths of their passion for one another, she hadn’t noticed. However, glancing down at her nude form, that explanation lost all its merit.  
  
There were no bruises upon her porcelain, delicate skin, no blemishes, no redness. Hell, Angel had even been so intent upon keeping her safe that she didn’t even have a hickey… which kind of disappointed her. Wasn’t a hickey another right of teenage passage that she should have been granted that evening? Oh, she understood why her boyfriend had been hesitant to suck on her neck. One couldn’t forget about those pesky fangs of his, after all. But, still, in the strange limbo of great pain and joy that she was teetering in, Buffy yearned for the outward expression of what they had shared.   
  
If someone saw her at that precise moment (with clothes on, of course), they wouldn’t know that she had changed. They wouldn’t understand just what exactly she and Angel had shared that evening, and they certainly wouldn’t comprehend just how much their act had meant to the both of them. While clichéd and emotionally hollow, even she would have to admit that, a hickey, at least, would have alerted anyone who saw her, would have started to guide them down the path of truth.   
  
Yes, sleeping with her boyfriend had been private and even more beautiful because of its personal nature, but, at the same time, she was definitely not sorry that it happened or embarrassed. It was just one more oddity to add to the mountain of oddities that evening… or early morning. Not only could the slayer not understand the almost unbearable soreness she was experiencing, but, now, she also had mixed feelings on just how much she wanted to reveal about her change in sexual status.   
  
Then there was also her implausible, rapacious appetite to consider as well.   
  
Buffy wasn’t a stranger to food. In fact, she liked food tremendously. Burgers and fries, chocolate layer cake with chocolate frosting, bowl after bowl of sugary breakfast cereal with just the right amount of ice cold milk, turkey and jalapeno cheese quesadillas with lime and chili powder sauce, the list could go on and on and on. Not that anyone could tell by looking at her, though. Other than the whole fighting evil and vanquishing the demons to make earth just a little safer for those who were on the side of good, that was her favorite part about being the slayer – the metabolism. The blonde teenager could eat what she wanted, whenever she wanted, and not have to worry about the consequences.   
  
However, none of her favorite things even tempted her in that moment. She didn’t even want ice cream which was a thought that practically bordered on blasphemy. Perhaps because her appetite consisted of a strange combination of both thirst and hunger, none of her usual staple snack choices appealed to Buffy in the slightest. Whatever she wanted, though, she needed to figure it out quickly before the craving destroyed what was left of her rapidly dwindling sanity… or before the terrible discomfort did.   
  
Slipping out of bed, Buffy tiptoed to the old fashioned fridge that Angel had on the other side of his small yet cozy apartment. Though the windowless space could fit entirely into her mother’s living room, she liked how intimate the flat was, relished in the fact that, wherever she and Angel were in the one, big room, they were always still with each other, could always still see and feel each other’s presence. Why she was walking so softly, though, she wasn’t sure. Her boyfriend was out cold… sleeping like the dead…   
  
Exhausted.  
  
He was exhausted. Any other euphemism was just too creepily close to the harsh, unpleasant truth of Angel’s undead dead status to even consider using. However, she liked the idea of him being exhausted, of being the one to make him feel so worn out. Smirking smugly, Buffy yanked open the fridge’s door, now unconcerned about the noise that she was making, and relished the idea that she had depleted her very own vampire lover. That thought alone was enough to almost banish the pain, and the thirst, and the suddenly ravenous appetite she was now sporting, for it made her want to forget her craving and crawl back into bed with Angel, to wake him up and seduce him into seducing her for the second time.   
  
Almost.  
  
Glancing into the appliance, though, the slayer crashed back to reality when she found only blood residing inside. No food. No cans of pop. And certainly no ice cream… not that she had wanted it anyway. In fact, she still didn’t know what she sought, but that didn’t stop her from desiring it any less. It… everything… was just so confusing, and, no matter what she did or what she thought, Buffy couldn’t find any answers.   
  
Unconscious of her actions, she found that one of her hands was reaching for a bag of blood. Once it made contact, the coldness of the thick, congealed liquid surprising in its attractiveness to her, she yanked her fingers away, slamming the refrigerator’s door shut with a resounding crack.   
  
Her actions confused her, and her reactions scared her, so much so, in fact, that Buffy found herself scampering back to bed, her craving going unsatisfied. Instead, she needed Angel. That much she knew for certain. Though sometimes it pained her to think about, she knew that she wasn’t his first, that what they had shared that evening had certainly not been a first for the souled vampire. He was more than two centuries old, and had been with countless women. If anyone could answer her questions, sooth her concerns, and make her feel better, it was him, though.  
  
Crawling back under the covers, she turned towards the man she loved. He was so beautiful to her – strong, handsome, good, but it was the fact that he loved her so unselfishly that made her love him so much. Without him giving voice to the thought, she knew that Angel would do anything and everything within his power for her, and, in return, she was honestly able to admit to herself that she felt the same way. It was the synergy of their union, the harmoniousness of their feelings that made their relationship as resilient as it was, and, after being with him for the first time, the slayer could admit that she felt even closer to Angel now afterwards. Such a realization was so unbelievably sentimental and perhaps even foolish, but she couldn’t help herself in feeling it. It was the truth.   
  
Perhaps it was the sheer joy she experienced in that moment, but, whatever it was, the pain began to rapidly fade. However, that still left the slayer with her strangely gluttonous appetite. While she had expected to be hungry upon waking up later that morning, after all, between fighting The Judge the evening before and making love to Angel, she had certainly worked up quite the appetite, this was something entirely different. It wasn’t the typical post-coital thirst for food and drink… at least, she didn’t think it was. If it was, all those books she had read in the past, all the movies she had seen, and all the television shows she had watched were missing a few very important details.   
  
Leveling herself above her boyfriend by leaning on a bent elbow, Buffy smiled down upon Angel’s still peacefully resting countenance. She really didn’t want to wake him. In fact, a part of her just wanted to sit there and watch him sleep forever, but the other part of her, the more dominant part of her, needed answers, needed a respite from the overwhelming craving she was experiencing. However, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t make waking the vampire up enjoyable for both of them.   
  
Giggling girlishly at the thought, the blonde seventeen year old lowered her lips to her boyfriend’s neck. Even though he was timid when it came to kissing her there, she certainly felt no such restraint. And why should she? It wasn’t as though she could hurt the man she loved that way, and Angel had such an exceptionally appealing neck. It was graceful and dependable, gorgeous in its sheer strength and power. So pale, so cold and smooth, Buffy literally found herself aching to touch it with her lips, to kiss it, to lick it, to suck on its porcelain perfection.   
  
As her mouth came into contact, though, with Angel’s skin, she felt it part, felt her teeth reveal themselves as she grazed them along the milky white flawlessness before her. Just one little bite wouldn’t hurt. She would be gentle, oh so gentle…  
  
But, as the first pinprick of her lover’s blood flowed and blossomed over her tongue, her supernatural senses suddenly becoming even more alive than she could have previously imagined them ever being, Angel’s own gaze crashed open, met hers, and she could see something immediately die inside of him. He was awake now, but she no longer had any questions; she didn’t want any answers. All she wanted was him.  
  
All she wanted was his blood.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

Despite the fact that his blood did not flow, that he possessed no heartbeat, that his body’s circulation had been dormant for more than two centuries, Angel could have sworn, in that moment, that his blood ran cold. This was not supposed to be happening, not to her, not to him, not to them. It was cruel, and he didn’t understand how it was possible. What he did know, though, was that it was his worst nightmare currently coming true.

  
Springing from the bed, he moved away from the woman he loved… from Buffy so quickly that she nearly fell back in surprise. If it wasn’t for her quick reflexes, reflexes that were more than humanly possible, she would have done just that. For several long, stifling moments, they just stared at each other, Angel in horror, his girlfriend in a sort of confused amusement. She obviously did not understand, yet, what had just happened between them.  
  
Suddenly, she laughed. “I startled you.” Becoming more enraptured with the idea, Buffy sat up on her knees, leaning forward to smirk and tease the souled vampire. Clutching the sheet tightly to her chest, she continued. “Little ol’ slayer me scared big, bad you. I never thought it was possible. This night just keeps getting better and better.”  
  
The fact that she had no clue and that he was going to have to be the one to break the news to her just seemed to add to the unbelievable weight pressing down upon his shoulders. In that moment, Angel just felt like breaking down, but he knew that he couldn’t. When Buffy learned the truth, she was going to need him even more than ever, and he wasn’t going to let her down. Just as she had been strong in the past for everyone else, he was going to be strong for her. No matter what he had to do, he wouldn’t allow her to go through this alone; he wouldn’t allow her to suffer… even if he had to do all the suffering for the both of them. However, first, he needed to know why.  
  
Without saying anything, he advanced towards the seventeen year old before him. Tricking her into thinking that he was going to take her into his arms, he, instead, ripped the covers away from her form, revealing every inch of her nude body to his seeking gaze. Clumsily, perhaps even too roughly, he pulled her off of the bed, positioning her so that she was standing before him. Although he would never intentionally hurt her, his haste for answers made him reckless, but Buffy didn’t seem to notice or mind. Rather, she was embarrassed.  
  
In a vain attempt to cover herself, the blonde snaked her own arms around her vulnerable, bare shape, but Angel’s eyes were faster than her movements. In mere seconds, he took in her entire body, traveling from her hairline down to her dainty, painted toenails, both relieved and confused by what he found. Nothing. There were no bite marks, no signs of aggression, no physical proof that he was the monster who had done this to the person he loved most in the world. But that just didn’t make sense.  
  
Deciding he needed even more reassurance, the vampire started to run his hands over each and every inch of available skin his girlfriend presented to him, willingly or not. Despite the fact that he could feel Buffy tense underneath his touch, he couldn’t stop, and he certainly didn’t pull away. Not only was he doing this for himself, for he needed to know that he wasn’t to blame, but he was also doing it for the slayer, for she would need answers as well.  
  
“Angel… what are you…?”  
  
Buffy’s voice trailed off, its soft, feminine notes saturated with both trepidation and bewilderment, and, if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he also detected a strain of arousal. But his ministrations weren’t meant to attract her. At the same time, though, if what he feared was true, such a base, animalistic reaction to his touch didn’t shock him. In fact, her desire would be natural.  
  
All that faded though when he stopped searching her body for evidence of an assault and regained his full height. With just one glance into his emotion filled gaze, Buffy seemed to finally sense that something between them was dreadfully wrong. Her shoulders squared, her back stiffened, and her own eyes glazed over in what Angel could only term as a look of pure aggression and tenacity. Instantly, she could sense that he felt the need to battle, to fight something, and she was prepared to stand by his side no matter what, even if she didn’t know that the enemy they were about to face was themselves.  
  
Still, he said nothing. He couldn’t. How was he supposed to tell the woman he loved that she was…? The thought alone to him was unthinkable, so how would Buffy react? Not well, he knew that without even having to ask, without even pondering the issue. And he wouldn’t, couldn’t blame her either. She was supposed to be a warrior of the light, someone who defended and protected the good, and, now, because of him, because she loved him and he loved her, that was all being stripped away from her.  
  
Without conscious decision, he felt tears sting the back of his lids, the corners of his eyes, but the souled vampire blinked the moister away. Now was not the time to indulge in such selfish reactions. In that moment, he needed to focus on Buffy. He would have all the time in the world later to mourn for what had been taken from them later. After all, he had eternity. What would putting off his own personal feelings for a few hours really cost him in comparison to being able to help the only person he loved?  
  
“Angel, please,” Buffy pleaded with him, her veneer of determination and intensity fading quickly under the onslaught of his distress. He realized in that moment that, just as he hurt when she did, the slayer also was pained when he was in distress. “You’re kind of scaring me right now. I feel like I’m trapped in some really bad dream. I mean, this is worse than the one where you end up standing in front of the entire school in your underwear. Yeah, I know that you’ve already seen me naked, but… I feel like Mr. Gordo, and he’s been sent to auction. Please, you have to tell me what’s going on here.” Resolutely, she hardened her jaw and squared her chin. “Whatever it is, I can take it. Just give it to me straight.”  
  
In her nervous state of anxiety, his girlfriend had started to ramble. Despite the situation, Angel found the automatic defense mechanism both reassuring and adorable. No matter what had happened, she was still the same, old Buffy, the beautiful, capable, funny girl he had fallen in love with two years before.  
  
She was still… the same.  
  
Comprehension dawned for the vampire. While she might be changed, the slayer still retained her soul. How, why, he wasn’t sure, but that one simple fact calmed the raging inferno of shame and self-loathing inside of him; it soothed him enough so that he could, once again, take control of the situation and, to the best of his ability without scarring his girlfriend for life, answer Buffy’s questions.  
  
It would be impossible to tell her, though, and to show her visually was impossible. That left him with only one other option. Taking the seventeen year old’s right hand in his own, he guided her slightly quivering fingers to her face, keeping hold of them even when he stopped their progression and allowed both of their digits to brush against the furrowed, raised ridges of her brow.  
  
“What… I don’t…”  
  
“Yes, you do,” Angel argued with the blonde.  
  
He could see that she was torn. While a part of her understood what he was trying to show her, another part of her, the sane, rational, human part of her didn’t want to grasp the truth. It was too painful. After seventeen years of being a human girl, after two years of being the slayer, Buffy Summers was changing once again. She had adapted so well to her calling when her first watcher had approached her. Granted, she had been somewhat hesitant and scared, but that was a natural reaction. But this… This time, she wasn’t becoming a soldier for humanity; this time she was joining the ranks of those she fought to the death… at least, phsyically.  
  
Tears welled in his girlfriend’s eyes, spilled forth down her pale, silken cheeks, and Angel found himself letting go of her hands to catch the falling drops with the pads of his chilled, marble fingers. But, for every tear he managed to catch, two more fell, and, soon, there was no stemming the emotional, grief stricken river. Instead of trying to, he simply surrendered, for the moment. Guiding the both of them back several steps so that they could sit down on the bed they had shared just minutes before, he took Buffy in his arms and held her while she cried.  
  
Eventually, she twisted in his embrace to face him but, at the same time, refused to break his hold around her. “How did this…?”  
  
“I don’t know.” As her eyes searched his, amber eyes, eyes still taken over and controlled by the demon that now resided within her, he knew that she was looking for answers. “I, uh, I didn’t…”  
  
“Oh, Angel,” Buffy sighed, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching and their lips were just a whisper apart. “I know that. I know that you would never do that to me, that you would never turn me. You’re too good, too selfless, too… you.”  
  
“Well, I’m glad that one of us trusts me. I wasn’t so sure.”  
  
“That’s why you made me stand in front of you…” The slayer’s words trailed off as she glanced away from him. If she had still been human, the centuries old vampire knew that the woman he loved would have been blushing in that moment. Swallowing roughly, the blonde finished, “naked and why you were searching my body. You were looking for a bite mark.”  
  
Despite the fact that his response was unneeded, Angel found himself responding anyway. “I was.”  
  
Pulling away slightly, the seventeen year old regarded him curiously. She was, by far, surpassing all of his expectations. He had no idea how she was handling their situation so entirely well. He was a mess, but Buffy seemed grounded, level headed, completely in control, and, considering the fact that she was a fledgling, he was awed. “We need to figure out how this happened.”  
  
“We do, and we need to figure out how to reverse it. If I can be given back my soul, there must be some way to give you back your humanity, especially since I don’t think you actually died.”  
  
“So that means that I’m not evil,” his girlfriend questioned.  
  
He grinned, despite himself and the occasion. Buffy certainly had a way with words. “No, you’re not. I’m positive that you’re still in control of your soul, but that doesn’t mean that this is going to be easy for you. You’re still a fledgling. You’re still going to be so overwhelmed by your new instincts, your new cravings…”  
  
“Ugh,” the slayer whined slightly, rocking forward so that her head landed upon his shoulder and stopped to rest there. “Don’t remind me. I feel like I could eat a bear right now. I’m starving.” He chuckled but didn’t say anything, and, after a few moments of silence, the seventeen year old sprang up to regard him once more. “Oh my god. I bit you!”  
  
“It didn’t hurt.”  
  
“But I drank you blood,” she protested emphatically.  
  
“Not that much,” Angel excused.  
  
Biting her lip, Buffy admitted, “since we’re kind of baring our souls right now, no pun intended, I kind of want to do it again.”  
  
Before she could advance closer, he pulled away and headed towards his fridge. Pulling out all the bags of blood, the centuries old vampire handed them to the woman he loved. “Not yet… I mean, you can’t. We don’t know what’s going on, and we don’t know how my blood will affect you… or vice versa.” Handing her the plasma, he insisted, “drink these.”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
“I fed earlier. I’ll be fine for a few days, but you’re going to need more than that.”  
  
“Now you make me sound like a glutton.”  
  
Angel just grinned crookedly. “Buffy, you’re a fledgling. If you don’t keep your hunger sated…”  
  
“I might just forget about that whole soul thing and go out and find myself some fresh meat?”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” he argued as he stepped into his pants, hastily fastening them. Pulling on his shirt, he buttoned it quickly.  
  
“You didn’t have to, and, of course, I don’t want that to happen.” Apprehensively biting her lip, his girlfriend asked, “what about my face?”  
  
“After your craving is satisfied, it should return to normal. You’ll eventually learn to control it… if we don’t find a way to reverse this.”  
  
“And then we’ll go and see Giles and the gang, get them started on research?” Finally realizing that he was pulling on his boots, the young blonde petulantly wondered out loud, “where are you going?”  
  
“To Willy’s.”  
  
“You’re going to a bar… now?”  
  
“I need to go out and get you some more blood. This,” he motioned towards the packets sitting beside her, “won’t be enough.”  
  
“Oh.” Brightening, Buffy asked, “can I go with you?”  
  
Striding back across the room, Angel bent down to kiss her lips softly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t know what’s going on, we don’t know how you’re going to react to the changes, and we don’t know how much control you have on the demon.”  
  
“So, basically, you’re saying that it’s not safe for Sunnydale if I go roaming off into the night?”  
  
Instead of answering her, he simply reassured, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”  
  
“And what about Giles and everyone else?” He exhaled heavily, none too pleased that his answers seemed to keep disappointing the person he loved most in the world, the only person he loved. “It’s too soon for me to see them, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah, probably,” Angel conceded, “but we’ll see how things go.” Kissing her once more, he straightened, suddenly more somber than he had been during any other moment they had shared that night… or early morning. “I love you.” For some reason, he just had the feeling that Buffy needed to hear him tell her that.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
Or maybe he had been the one who needed her loving reassurance.  
  
Whatever the motivation for his confession, the souled vampire slipped out of his small apartment and disappeared into the murky, pre-dawn light. He had less than an hour to get to Willy’s Bar and back if he wanted to beat the sun’s rays. More importantly, though, no matter how much he trusted Buffy with his own safety, he refused to risk her sanity by allowing anything bad to happen at her hands, and, so, he wanted to be back with her, safe and sound, as quickly as he possibly could.  
  
Running rapidly down the back alleys, his mind so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t sense anyone approaching, Angel was caught off guard when someone attacked him from behind. It was the very last thing he was expecting and certainly the last thing he needed. As the thick, metal pipe made contact with the back of his skull, the final image that floated into the vampire’s mind was that of the woman he loved, the woman who was waiting for him, the woman he refused to let down… only, this time, such resolve might just be out of his control.


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

As a cross was thrust in his face, Angel dimly heard someone accuse him, “I know who you are.”  
  
His head hurt slightly, but, even as the realization flashed through his conscious, he could feel his rapid healing powers going to work. The lump on his skull would be gone in a matter of minutes, but the attack had still managed to render him unresponsive for a long enough time period that someone had been able to confront him. However, with his vision blurry, his ears ringing, and his constrained demon shrinking back from the religious artifact tauntingly being waved before him, it was difficult for the vampire to concentrate long enough to discover who his attacker was.  
  
Blinking rapidly, he cleared his eyes sufficiently enough to see that his assailant was not of the supernatural variety. It wasn’t a vampire, it wasn’t a demon, and it certainly wasn’t a stranger as he had predicted. Rather, it was someone he knew personally. But why had she assaulted him, and why did she sound so angry, so frightened?  
  
Hesitantly, Angel offered, “okay…?”  
  
“You’re Angelus.”  
  
Stumbling to his feet, the souled vampire backed away from the quaking human, attempting to put some distance between himself and the cross she still held in front of her as a sort of shield. “But you’ve know that for months. I never lied about that or tried to cover it up.”  
  
“No,” the persistent woman argued. “You’re not listening to me. I _know_.”  
  
He was quickly losing his patience. Buffy needed blood, the sun would be up soon, and his attacker wasn’t making any sense. Instead of talking in circles any further, the souled vampire decided he would just leave. Although he did not relish the idea of leaving a defenseless woman on her own in a Sunnydale back alley, it had been her decision to travel outside of the safety of her own home that early morning, and he had more important things to worry about. However, the next time he saw Giles, he would make sure that he mentioned the little incident to the watcher. The librarian would certainly take an interest in this most recent, bizarre event.  
  
However, apparently, the woman refused to let the subject drop, for, just as soon as his back was turned towards her, she moved after him, followed him, speaking once more, the bitter, resentful tone of accusation ripe in her usually pleasant voice. “Angel’s gone, and Angelus is back.”  
  
Pivoting around to face his confronter, the more than two century old vampire glared at the petite female. “If I were Angelus, Miss Calendar, you’d already be dead.”  
  
There was a brief flash of confusion upon the brunette’s face, but she quickly banished it, replacing it, once more, with her ugly, vicious accusations. “While you might be able to fool everyone else, pretend that you’re still good, I know better.”  
  
“Know what and how,” he demanded an explanation.  
  
“I know _you_ ,” the woman persisted. “I know what you’ve done, I know what you’re capable of, and I refuse to let you do it again.”  
  
“And let’s just say that you’re right, for argument’s sake,” Angel offered. “Then what? If I’m really Angelus, how are you going to stop me?” That question seemed to crack through the shell of defense the teacher had been previously displaying. With his point made, though, he moved to leave once again. As he walked out of the alley, the souled vampire tossed his final remarks over his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t have time right now to find out. Go home, Jenny.” Why he used her first name, why he suddenly had the urge to forget his manners and refer to the computer expert in a less than entirely respectful way, he wasn’t sure.  
  
Even as he left her there, agape with shock and confusion, his mind didn’t wander far from her comments. It was all rather puzzling really. Although he had never sensed complete faith from the brunette, she had also never been so forthright with her distrust, so open with her very harsh, pointed allegations. Where had they come from?  
  
As Angel thought further about the matter, he found himself going back to just the night before. Undoubtedly, the teacher had been beyond assertive when it came to voicing her opinion about how to handle The Judge. Now that he thought about it, she had obviously wanted him to leave town, and her discomfort seemed to be exacerbated by his relationship with Buffy. Not that the others sometimes didn’t display unease about the fact that he, a legendary vampire, was dating the slayer, but, as he contemplated the evening before, he realized that Miss Calendar had been nearly desperate. Perhaps the more appropriate question was why did she care so much?  
  
Buffy wasn’t one of her students. Yes, most teachers had a healthy, compassionate interest in the welfare of all children, no matter what their age or how mature they were, but Miss Calendar really didn’t even know the slayer. The only reason the two of them were associated was because of her interest in Giles, because the computer expert was dating the watcher. Because she cared for the librarian, it was only natural that she would also care for his charge, but was it natural that her interest was so strong, so fervent?  
  
It would stand to reason that she would just go to her boyfriend with any of her concerns. Not only did Giles know Buffy better than Miss Calendar did, but he was also partially responsible for her. Plus, the watcher had the full story where the slayer’s relationship with Angel was concerned. Because of his position with the council, he was in full possession of all the recorded documentation of Angel’s history and case. He knew of his brutal, ferocious reign across Europe during the nineteenth century, he was aware of the curse that had been visited upon his demon, a curse that returned Angel’s soul, and he understood that he was determined to do whatever it took to help Buffy with her pursuit of ridding the world of evil. If Giles wasn’t still objecting to his presence, why was the brunette computer expert?  
  
Really, it was all rather baffling. As the souled vampire rounded the last corner, Willy’s Bar came into view. It appeared rather deserted, but he knew that the crafty proprietor would be there. Willy always was. While he wasn’t the most honest man, he could be depended upon for three things: doing whatever it took to save his own skin, being willing to sell anything, including information, to make a dime, and always having fresh blood in stock. In a town so overrun with vampires and demons alike, that alone was an amazing feat.  
  
However, he just couldn’t bring himself to enter the tavern. He knew that he needed to. As one part of his mind continued to remind him, Buffy was a fledgling. Her thirst was practically unquenchable. The paltry amount of blood that he had provided her with before leaving wouldn’t last her but a few hours. He needed to replenish his stock, and the only way to do that was to go into Willy’s, but his feet seemed frozen in place. He just couldn’t seem to forget his encounter with Jenny Calendar.  
  
Calendar…  
  
Calendar.  
  
Repeating the teacher’s surname over and over again in his mind, Angel paused to contemplate its origins. For some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, at least, not yet, the name Calendar resonated inside of him. It called to some deep seeded instincts within the souled vampire, instincts that he as a man embraced but ones that his demon shied away from. Why did the name seem so familiar and, yet, at the same time, so foreign?  
  
He floated back through his lengthy past, through his times in New York before Whistler came to see him, through the long suffering, monotonous days of mere existence as he battled his own memories of evil, through the painful years as he murdered, raped, and pillaged his way through Europe, through his early life before he was made into a monster, and, last but certainly not least, Angel stopped momentarily on the very night that he regained his soul.  
  
The gypsies.  
  
The people who had cursed him to roam the earth for the rest of his days with his soul intact, good once more but powerless to completely apologize or to atone for all the disgusting, vile things he had done as his evil vampire counterpart, Angelus, their name had been Kalderash, so similar, so hauntingly similar it was a wonder that he had not made the connection before.  
  
Jenny Calendar was really Jenny Kalderash. The woman who was dating Rupert Giles, who was Willow’s mentor, who had helped Buffy on more than one occasion was the same woman who now carried on the line of the family who had hexed him into a living hell on earth for eternity, and no one had a clue. Not only had she been spying on him, watching him, but she had also lied to every single person who mattered to the one person who mattered to him.  
  
A part of Angel was torn. He knew what it was like to have your family’s expectation piled upon you. In fact, he had lived that existence once himself. It meant that Jenny was not completely free to make her own decisions, that she was curtailed and held back by the obligations her blood imposed upon her. And turning one’s back upon one’s family was easier said than done. Theoretically, it seemed easy. If your parents, or your grandparents, or your aunts and uncles wanted you to do something you didn’t agree with, all you had to do was say no, but most people couldn’t. They felt compelled by their duty and bound by their honor to those who had given them life. So, he could understand how the teacher could have been compelled to do her family’s bidding, and he could even forgive the secrecy and the deceit; what he could not forgive, though, was the fact that he suspected the computer expert to be buried so deeply in the mess that had changed Buffy that she could no longer see or think straight.  
  
It was odd, though, considering the fact that the Kalderash family had left him alone for nearly an entire century. Why, all of a sudden, did they show up now? Before, he had been wasting the soul they had given back to him, starving himself and wishing and praying for, if not a painless, then, at least, a quick death. However, now, he was fighting. He was taking a stand and assisting the side of light’s fiercest and most potent weapon against evil: the slayer, Buffy, but, no sooner had he changed for what he believed to be the better, then Jenny Calendar showed up in Sunnydale.  
  
He couldn’t believe that the gypsy family would object to his new lifestyle choice. Why would they? They, no doubt, hated vampires just as much as he did, so, surely, they would be grateful for every demon he sent back to hell. In fact, when confronted with one of those evils face to face, Jenny Calendar had not attempted to dissuade him from helping. Rather, she had pushed him to, insisting that he leave town with The Judge’s arm. Like he had realized before, she had seemed almost desperate to get him away from the woman he loved.  
  
So, everything – her being in Sunnydale, her recent change in attitude, and their confrontation just a few minutes before must all revolve around his relationship with the slayer. But she knew about the curse. First hand, she was aware that he would rather give his own life than hurt Buffy, so why the objection? Even taking into account the hate she no doubt felt for him due to what his demon had done to her distant relative, there was still the fact that he and Buffy fought better together than when they were apart to consider. Couldn’t she see that they were a good team, that finally, with the slayer at his side, he and the soul they had cursed him with together could do good things?  
  
Even if they didn’t know, Jenny had not seemed angered with him earlier the night before. While certainly not his biggest fan, her objections, her intrusion didn’t seem to start until he and Buffy became drastically more intimate with each other? Did the teacher sense that they had been preparing to escalate their relationship to the next level, and, if so, what did any of her objections have to do with Angelus? Why did she all of a sudden think that his demon was back in control?  
  
Stepping off the sidewalk outside of Willy’s Bar, Angel turned his back upon the demon club. Yes, he needed blood for the woman he loved, but the bartender was going nowhere. Even if he had to use the sewers later in order to carry the plasma back to his girlfriend, he would. For now, though, he needed to see Jenny Calendar, and their second confrontation that morning, one he himself was going to initiate, had to occur immediately. If anybody had the answers to his questions about Buffy’s transformation, it would be the computer expert, and, in that moment, answers were even more important than blood. He was just going to have to trust the fact that, with her soul still intact, the woman he loved would be able to control her urges. And it wasn’t so hard for him to have faith in Buffy. She had his heart, so, automatically, she had his confidence as well, fledgling vampire or not.  
  
Determined and slightly hopeful, the souled demon quickly made his way through the rapidly illuminating streets. He didn’t need directions to the teacher’s house. Instead, he just followed her scent, tracking her down. While it wasn’t the same path she herself was taking back to her apartment, it was a fresh enough trail to lead him straight to her front door where he laid in wait in the shadows. One way or another, Jenny Calendar was going to shed some light upon what was going on. After all, she seemed to be the one to blame, and he was in no mood to wait respectfully for her to come to him. While what she feared might not have been true, for Angelus was still very much under control, Angel’s temper had been piqued, and it was nothing to gamble with. Jenny Calendar had done so, though, and she was about to learn just how big of a mistake that was to make.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

Everything was slipping away from her. Like a woman dying of thirst, Jenny attempted to hold onto the rapidly fraying ends of her existence, but, just as water would seep between her fingers, fleeing faster than she could capture more, so did her future, and she couldn’t do anything to prevent the tragedy she felt was about to happen. It was hopeless.  
  
She loved her family. With all her heart, she was loyal to them. Not only was she proud of her heritage, proud of the strength of conviction her family possessed and their unique sense of self, but she also loved them because they were hers. Right or wrong, rich or poor, they were her blood, and nothing could ever change that. Their stories, their roots flowed deep within her own body, so, when they had approached her with their plan for her to move to and reside in Sunnydale in order to keep an eye on the souled vampire Angel, a vampire her own family had cursed in an act of revenge for the demon taking the life of one of their favorites, she had not objected. In fact, she had been proud to serve her family.  
  
Soon, though, after relocating to the small, shockingly supernatural Californian town, the young teacher had realized the error of her judgment. Despite the fact that Angel was no more of a threat to humanity than she herself was, she still could not tell a single person about her connection to the storied vampire, and her life quickly became nothing more but an elaborate, exhausting ruse.  
  
Because she had to blend in, she had to deny core pieces of her personality. Her friends and coworkers couldn’t know about her interest in the paranormal, about how she dabbled in witchcraft, and they certainly couldn’t know that she was not really Jenny Calendar but Jenny Kalderash. Not that her real name would actually mean anything to the average human, but, still, it wore the teacher down, constantly having to lie and pretend.  
  
But that’s when she met Rupert Giles. At first, she didn’t realize just how far his knowledge of all things mystical and magical went, but she had assisted him anyway, quickly realizing that he wasn’t just a dabbler like she herself was. He was a watcher. His whole entire existence centered around his duty to aid and assist the slayer, a legend the brunette had heard of but had possessed little faith in until she had actually met the shadowy figure herself.  
  
In fact, Rupert’s job as a librarian was nothing more than a ruse as well. Despite the fact that she couldn’t tell him about her own secrets, it was reassuring to the computer expert that someone out there knew how she felt. Their similar deceptions made her feel as if they were kindred spirits. Quickly, Jenny had realized that she was falling in love with the British man.  
  
And then there were the kids as well. Once she allowed Rupert entrance into her private world of magic and spells, he had truly introduced her to his young charge and the teenager’s friends. Buffy, Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Oz, they all became aware of her penchant for Wicca, and they respected her more because of it. And, just as they learned to like and respect her, she began to feel the same way about them as well.  
  
She was, by far, the closest with Willow. The redhead was unbelievably intelligent, but her empathy even surpassed her acumen. She was talented with a computer, and Jenny sensed that the young girl was also interested in studying under her for an entirely different matter as well. Willow seemed attracted to her supernatural powers and knowledge, and it wouldn’t surprise the computer expert if her young friend and student someday didn’t end up a Wicca herself.  
  
Xander was the obvious self-appointed clown of the group. When things became too tense, he would, at times, ease the strain for some, but, for others, perplex them further. Cordelia, though self-centered, seemed to have an underlying urge to care. However, it was only revealed when she forgot that she was supposed to be Queen C of Sunnydale High. On the other hand, there was quiet, reticent, but no less clever Oz. The fledgling musician almost served as a grounding force within the small group. Though he never said much, that which he did say was often both revealing and useful.  
  
Finally, there was Buffy. The slayer. She was the glue that bound their unique, ragtag group together. She brought in Giles for obvious reasons, Willow and Xander were her best friends, and, because of their romantic interest in the two teens respectively, Oz and Cordelia were a part of the mix as well. Plus, Buffy brought Angel as well.  
  
When she had first come to Sunnydale, the last thing Jenny had believed she would find was closure, but she had been more than half way there when her uncle decided to call and check up on her. As it had been passed down from generation to generation, she had been raised to loathe both Angelus and the souled vampire he because after her family cursed him. He had taken away from them someone they loved, and, for that, he could not be forgiven.  
  
But she had anyway. Unlike the rest of her family, she, first hand, had seen all the good he was doing. Nothing was more important to him than the welfare of the slayer, and, in connection, he cared deeply for the fight against evil. By Buffy’s side, he eliminated vampires night after night, and it was obvious that he felt tremendous remorse for his previous actions as Angelus. However, the most beautiful thing that he did was love his girlfriend. No one, in Jenny’s opinion, could love that strongly, that deeply, that unselfishly and not be deserving of mercy. With this realization, she had been able to let go of the anger and the hatred, and she came to see the hex visited upon the vampire as more than just a curse; it had been the best thing that could have happened to Angel.  
  
However, that was before, before she knew the whole truth about what her ancestors had done all those years before. To put it simply, Angel’s soul wasn’t permanent. There was a clause to the curse that the more than two century old vampire was unaware of. If he ever experienced true happiness for even a moment, he would revert back to his previous, demonic self; he would lose his soul once more.  
  
And it was her responsibility to guard against such a catastrophe.  
  
How her family could have been so careless, so cruel, she didn’t know. While she understood that the curse had been made out of vengeance, the Kalderash family was still responsible for any repercussions that might be the result of their actions. By not telling Angel about the happiness clause, they risked unleashing Angelus unto the world once more. If that were to happen, hundreds, perhaps even thousands of lives would be lost, and they would have no one to blame but themselves, herself included, because, even after she learned of the clause, Jenny had sat back and done nothing productive to prevent it from being put into effect.  
  
The first thing she should have done was go to Rupert and tell him everything she knew, but she had been a coward. She had become comfortable with her life in Sunnydale. Yes, at times, it was scary, but she had finally made friends, she had found a place where she felt as though she could belong, and, most importantly, she had finally fallen in love. To confess her history and her family’s past would only expose her to be the liar that she was, and, selfishly, that risk had been too big for her to take. So, instead, she remained silent, hoping and praying that something would happen to keep Buffy and Angel apart.  
  
The Judge had been a blessing in disguise, as far as she was concerned. It provided her with the means to separate the two lovers, sending Angel far, far away from the woman he loved. Distance, she feared, was the only thing that would prevent the two of them from consummating their relationship, and consummation could easily be the very thing that would trigger the happiness clause into taking effect.  
  
However, just like everything else in her life, nothing had gone according to plan. Angel and Buffy lost The Judge’s arm, doomsday was still upon them, and something had obviously shifted that night in the war between good and evil. Though she wasn’t a strong sorceress, she could sense the change in the air, and Jenny had feared that something had been Angel, once more, being taken over completely by his demon.  
  
But she had been wrong. As the teacher approached her own front door, that realization weighed heavily upon her apprehensive frame of mind. If the transfer of power that evening did not concern Angel, then what exactly had happened? Did it have anything to do with the happiness clause, or did she still have to worry about the souled vampire becoming evil once more? Plus, on top of both of those worries, she had made Angel suspicious of her. She had shown her cards too early, bluffed when she shouldn’t have, and, now, it was only a matter of time before he put the pieces together about who she was and reported his information to everyone she held near and dear. Then there was also her uncle to contend with as well.  
  
As her key slid easily into the well greased lock, Jenny nearly jumped out of her own skin when she felt a presence creep up behind her. However, she didn’t need to turn around to see who it was, and she certainly didn’t need to ask. Although she hadn’t expected him to follow her, for it had been obvious that he was intent upon going after something else, it made sense that Angel was there. He had already realized that she held the answers to questions only he could ask, and, now, he was there to extract them from her, one way or another. That thought sent a shiver down her spine, but the computer expert refused to cower or show her uneasiness.  
  
Pushing the door open, she ushered for the souled vampire to enter before her. “Well, go in,” she insisted, refusing to meet his penetrating gaze. Although it was still a rich, deep, chocolate brown, Jenny could sense the demon inside of Angel boiling just under the surface. “This is not a conversation we should be having outside, and the sun’s almost up.”  
  
The vampire said nothing in response. Shutting the door behind her, the young teacher strode into her kitchen, busying her hands with the task of making some tea. “I’d offer you something to drink, but…”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The interruption halted her movements. Glancing up, she finally met Angel’s accusing eyes. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”  
  
“I… it’s complicated.”  
  
“What, like being a vampire with a soul isn’t,” he challenged her cop out of an explanation. “But I still was upfront with Buffy.”  
  
Her nerves shot, Jenny snapped, “like there was anyone I could tell, could confide in. We both know that anyone I would have told, the information would have somehow found its way ultimately back to you. Rupert would have felt that Buffy deserved to know the truth, Willow, ultimately, is loyal to her best friend, and everybody else that knows that I practice magic feels a stronger sense of loyalty to your girlfriend than they do me. What was I supposed to do?”  
  
“You weren’t supposed to lie.”  
  
“Well, what’s done is done. I can’t change it now, and, if I know you at all, which I think I do, as soon as we’re finished here, you’ll go and find Buffy and tell her everything you found out about me.”  
  
Switching gears rapidly, Angel changed the subject, ignoring the teacher’s candid yet still insufficient argument on her own behalf. “Why did you call me Angelus?”  
  
With that one question, any bravado she had left disappeared. Reentering the living room, she admitted, “I thought that your curse had been reversed.”  
  
The transformation in the vampire nearly made Jenny question the validity of her own judgment. His shoulders stiffened and squared, his hands clenched, and his eyes narrowed lethally. For a moment, she wondered if he had been able to trick her, if he had been playing and toying with her ever since she first encountered him in the alley, if he was actually really Angelus. Practically growling, the centuries old vampire demanded to know, “what do you mean by reversed? I didn’t think that was possible? I thought my soul was permanent.”  
  
Swallowing roughly, the computer expert explained, “there is this clause.”  
  
“What clause?”  
  
Patiently, she allowed him to interject his unnecessary, redundant question. Taking a deep breath, she plunged forward. “If ever you finally achieve a moment of true happiness, the curse would be reversed, and you would, once more, lose your soul.”  
  
Heavily, Angel collapsed before her, falling down to sit on the ottoman that was just behind where he had previously been standing. His gaze closed, shuttering his emotions from her sight, and his entire body seemed to deflate. Finally, he asked, his voice barely recognizable, “why didn’t somebody tell me? Why didn’t _you_ tell me?”  
  
“I don’t know, and I’m sorry, but I’m telling you now,” Jenny defended. “Doesn’t that count for something?”  
  
“Oh, you’re not sorry, but you’re going to be.”  
  
There was no mistaking the souled vampire’s tone. His last words had been uttered as a threat. “Excuse me,” the brunette teacher demanded. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
But Angel didn’t answer her right away. Instead, he stood up and slowly proceeded to stalk his way ever closer to where she was standing. “Do you know what I did last night?”  
  
The abrupt change of subject startled her. “You tried to take The Judge’s arm as far aw…”  
  
Cutting her off, Angel snapped, “I spent the night with Buffy.” When realization didn’t immediately dawn, she found herself tilting her head to the side, observing the vampire even more closely. His gaze narrowed and he expanded, “the _whole_ night.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Despite everything else that was going on, despite the fact that we’re about to face an enemy we have no idea how to fight, let alone win against, it was the best night of my life. It was the happiest night of my life.”  
  
“But you still have your soul,” Jenny pointed out, suddenly feeling optimistic. “Maybe my uncle was wrong and the clause really doesn’t exist, or maybe a higher power decided to allow you to keep your soul. I don’t know, Angel, but this is good news.”  
  
He ignored her. “And do you know how I woke up this morning?” Without giving her a chance to even guess, he bellowed, “by the feeling of my girlfriend’s teeth sinking into my neck.”  
  
The teacher gasped. A myriad of emotions swarmed upon her, infiltrated both her mind and her heart, and made her step back in fear of what the centuries old vampire before her was either going to say next or do. She felt heartbreak for the young couple, pity, and fear for what would become of them now, and, for herself, she felt disappointment and terror. As far as she was concerned, nothing good could possibly come out of their most recent development.  
  
“What,” the enraged man before her taunted, “cat got your tongue?”  
  
“I don’t… how did this happen?”  
  
“You tell me,” he demanded. “After all, you’re the gypsy; you’re the Kalderash ancestor who has been sent here to watch me, to make sure that something like this doesn’t happen. If anyone should be able to explain how Buffy went to sleep a seventeen year old girl and woke up an eternal vampire, it should be you.”  
  
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Jenny protested in a vain attempt to defend her family’s actions and honor. “The clause specifically stated that, if you should ever experience just a moment of happiness, it would be you to lose your soul, not someone you love.”  
  
“But that’s just it. You bet not only my future but, more importantly, Buffy’s on a damn clause in a curse! You’ve studied Wicca,” Angel pointed out. “You understand the black arts. You know that, once a spell is put out there in the universe, it can no longer be controlled. And one that has been in existence for nearly a hundred years? Well, it really can’t surprise you that something went wrong. Your foolish, precious clause was at the whim of all the supernatural powers, and look, now, at what’s happened. Your entire family should have known better!”  
  
“There’s no way that we could have predicted this was going to happen.”  
  
“If you’re not prepared for all of the contingencies, then don’t fool around with magic you can’t control.” The vampire paused momentarily and paced away from the computer expert. Exhaling harshly, he continued to speak but never turned back around. “Do you know what I’m really curious about? Why put a happiness clause in the curse in the first place? I get that your people wanted me to suffer. Such punishment was well deserved, and you’ve gotten exactly what you wanted. And I can even understand how your family would never want me to experience another single moment of happiness, for I took such a pleasure away from one of their favorites. But, at the same time, by incorporating a clause into the curse that would strip me of my reacquired soul, all they were going to do was unleash Angelus upon the world once more. Dozens, hundreds of girls just like your ancestor would have died at my hands if this would have happened. Was revenge really a sweeter promise than making the entire world a better place?”  
  
“I can’t speak for my family,” the brunette offered solemnly. “Frankly, I don’t understand it any more than you do.”  
  
“And that’s all well and good, but your family isn’t here right now, Miss Kalderash. You are. And you are going to be the one to fix this for Buffy.”  
  
At his demand, she felt her eyes bulge wide open in shock and apprehension. “I’m by no means talented enough of a sorceress to do something like that. To return Buffy’s soul to her…”  
  
“She retained her soul during the transformation.”  
  
Her brow furrowed with confusion. “I don’t… how is that possible?”  
  
“I don’t have all the answers,” Angel sighed, once more turning around to face the young teacher, “but, from what I’ve been able to piece together on my own, I think that the curse stole Buffy’s humanity from her, because the powers recognized that by doing so they would hurt me more than they ever could by stripping me of my own soul.”  
  
“Because you love her,” Jenny commented, realizing such a statement was unnecessary but offering it anyway.  
  
Without replying to the obvious declaration, the vampire continued. “During the transformation, she was able to keep her soul because, technically, she didn’t die.”  
  
“That would make sense.”  
  
“So, now, it’s up to you to figure out a way to reverse the changes.”  
  
“I’m going to need help,” she admitted honestly, “more help than we might be able to even find.”  
  
“Oh, you’ll find it.” Although the words weren’t officially a threat, there was no mistaking the meaning behind them.  
  
“I’m sure Rupert and Willow would be willing to assist me.” As the name of her boyfriend slipped past the computer expert’s lips, she glanced at the man before her. “What are you going to tell Giles?”  
  
“Me,” Angel questioned. “I’m not going to tell you anything. You are.” When she visibly paled, he pressed on. “This is your mess. You were the one who lied to all of us, and you were the one who allowed me to unwittingly put the woman I love at risk, so you’re going to be the one to explain to your boyfriend why his slayer is suddenly a vampire.”  
  
“And you?”  
  
“I have to go buy some blood,” the more than two century old vampire stated unemotionally. “Buffy’s appetite is quite… great. I think it has something to do with the joining of her slayer traits with those of the demon.” Snapping out of his spoken reverie, he was directly in front of her, no more than a mere inch separating the two of them, before she could even see him move. Speaking through gritted teeth, Angel threatened, “you have until sundown to figure this out. If you don’t have some answers for me by then, well…” Smirking, he finished, “let’s just say that I’ll start to take matters into my own hands, and you really don’t want that to happen.”  
  
With that, the vampire sauntered towards her front door, picked an umbrella up on his way out, and was gone just as quickly as he had appeared behind her earlier.  
  
She had less than fourteen hours.


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

Despite the act she sometimes put on, Cordelia Chase was not stupid. While she might not know everything about books, like Giles, and everything about computers, like Willow, she had something better; she had real life smarts, and, to that effect, she knew that sometimes a girl had to do some rather unpleasant things in order to better her position in life. That’s why she suffered through bikini waxes, that’s why she did at least one hundred crunches before she went to bed every night, and that’s why she didn’t eat junk food. At all. Ever. When it came to school, the pretty brunette applied the same principle.  
  
That was why she found herself sitting in the library so early that morning. Frankly, the hour was absurd and unreasonable. Only farmers got up as early as she had been awakened that morning, and there was no way in hell her manicured fingers were ever going to touch a cow’s udder. While she still should have been sleeping (what, did people really believe the phrase beauty rest had invented itself?) she was, instead, stuck in a musty old room with one musty old person and a handful of losers she wouldn’t be caught dead with in public, waiting for Miss Calendar to finally show up.  
  
And the gall of that woman! She was the one who had called for their little emergency pow-wow of the minds, but was she anywhere in sight yet? Nope. She, Cordelia, was there – makeup applied, hair blown out, her designer clothes perfectly matched and pressed. Giles was there, looking as rumpled and as drab as always (she really should take that man shopping someday… it would do the entire world a favor), and Willow was bright eyed and bushy tailed, looking her usual unmatched, frumpy self. The annoying waste of space Xander was sitting beside her, smacking his lips against a jelly filled donut. Frankly, she wasn’t sure why he was included in their group, for it wasn’t as though he actually contributed anything that was actually useful, but, still, at least he provided an easy outlet for her frustration. Lastly, there was Oz - quiet, bland, weirdo Oz who had actually been the first one there, but the cheerleader didn’t really care about the musician’s promptness. After all, what could you expect from an eccentric artist who wasn’t cool enough to realize that, to really make an impression, one needed to be fashionably late?  
  
That’s what she had been – fashionably late, but Miss Calendar was just bordering on the side of rude. And, of course, Buffy and Angel were nowhere in sight. It wasn’t as though she was expecting the cutie vampire, because of that whole no sun rule he had to abide by, but the slayer should have been there. After all, it was her fault that they were all involved in the wacky and dangerous in the first place. The least she could do was actually show up when an emergency meeting was called, and, considering what had gone down the night before at the blonde’s birthday party, Cordelia was pretty sure that Buffy was up to her eyeballs with their latest mess.  
  
Ugh, what a way to thank her friends for the surprise party they had thrown her! While she had been patient for more than a year with the new student, maybe it was time that she started to teach her a thing or two about being appreciative!  
  
“Giles, I’m really going to need a pass to get out of my first period if Miss Calendar doesn’t show up soon,” the brunette beauty complained. Observing her fingernails, noticing that several of them were chipped and in need of a paint touch-up, she frowned. “I always do my homework before school, but I couldn’t this morning.”  
  
The librarian was just about to nod distractedly when Xander – stupid, interfering, good for nothing Xander Harris spoke up. “Well, you have some free time now, Cordy. Why don’t you do your homework while you sit here waiting?”  
  
He thought he was so damn smart, but he wasn’t. Smirking, the cheerleader replied in her best concerned tone, “and how do you expect me to concentrate when just the latest in a long line of catastrophes is hanging over our heads?”  
  
“We don’t know yet that it’s that bad,” Willow tried to pacify her, but Cordelia was in no mood to listen. Not only was she not naïve enough to believe the redhead, but she also needed the direness of the situation to help her weasel a pass out of Giles.  
  
“Of course it’s bad,” she reasoned. “If it wasn’t, if it was just your average, run-of-the-mill demon problem, Miss Calendar wouldn’t have called me as well, and, until I know for sure what we’re dealing with, then I won’t be able to do my work. Hence, the reason I need a pass, and you will help me out with that right, Giles?”  
  
“Of course,” the watcher responded more automatically than sincerely. Nevertheless, though, she had gotten what she wanted.  
  
“Hey, what about me,” her arch-nemesis complained.  
  
“Please, Xander, like you’ve ever once actually completed a single homework assignment.”  
  
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, and it kind of actually pains me to do so, but you know Cordy’s right,” Willow prevented her best friend from complaining further.  
  
Oz spoke up for what had to be the first time that morning in an attempt to comfort his would-be girlfriend. “It takes a bigger person to agree with their enemy than it takes for someone to tell their rival that they’re wrong.”  
  
“Hey, pipe down, Little Drummer Boy. Nobody asked you,” the cheerleader vented.  
  
“He plays guitar,” Willow corrected.  
  
Snappily, the pretty brunette replied, “I know what he plays. That wasn’t the point. Besides, it’s not like the instrument really matters when the band’s as bad as _Dingoes Ate My Baby_. What kind of name is that anyway?”  
  
“At least it’s more harmonious to the ears than Cordy,” Xander piped in, eliciting a glare from the girl in question.  
  
“Children, please,” Giles complained, quieting them, once more, at least for the foreseeable future. “This isn’t helping matters. Cordelia, I’ll give you a pass to stay here and get your homework done, but Xander, you’re going to class.”  
  
“It’s not like I wanted to stay in here with her anyway,” the surly teen mouthed back, but, by that point, she was far beyond bothering to come up with something to say back in retort. Xander Harris just wasn’t worth the wasted breath, and, anyway, she had gotten what she wanted.  
  
Free passes, leniency, and help with her assignments were just three of the reasons why she helped the resident misfits of Sunnydale High. Not only did it make Giles and Miss Calendar more sympathetic to her, but she also now had powerful, personal information to hold over their heads. For instance, she could always remind the librarian that Principal Snyder didn’t know that he was also employed by the Watcher’s Council, and, as for her computer teacher, Cordelia highly doubted that the school board would smile upon a professional who practiced internet magic… which, if anyone were to ask her, was lame. If you wanted to be a witch, at least get the cool accessories.  
  
The other reason she maintained her status in the little nerd group was so that she was in the know. One didn’t live in Sunnydale their whole life and not realize that something was radically wrong. Not that the citizens actually mentioned their issues or attempted to do anything about them. Rather, at the mayor’s prodding, they seemed to slip the strange incidents under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind seemed to be the Sunnydale motto, but she wasn’t that blind to reality.  
  
As a child, Cordelia had learned to fear what went bump in the night. She knew never to go out by herself at night, to never travel down an unlit, deserted road, and to always keep some form of defensive tool in her purse at all times. Mace, pepper spray, hell even hair spray would work. All a girl needed was something to buy her a few seconds in order to make a getaway. At least, before Buffy and her champions of the creepy started flaunting their after school activities under her nose, she had believed her rules to be enough to keep he safe. Now, she knew better.  
  
Vampires, witches, demons, they were all real, and she, for one, would rather have all the information she could about them than exist in an information-less bubble. Yes, fighting the evil creatures was scary, but it also gave the cheerleader a sense of satisfaction that she wasn’t just another one of the Sunnydale citizens sitting back and waiting for trouble to come knocking. Rather, she confronted it face on, stood up to it, and lived to fight another day. However, in order to do this, she needed backup, and, since most people in Cordelia’s hometown were either unaware of the all the baddies lurking in the shadows or too stupid to admit that if it went boo and was no longer living then it had to be a ghost, she was stuck with the slayer and her band of merry flunkies.  
  
Their group certainly put a new, much less appealing spin upon the whole John Hughes’ Breakfast Club fantasy. Instead of Emilio Estevez, she got stuck with Xander Harris. And who cares if he was a decent kisser? The dork still couldn’t dress, and he ate Twinkies like they were a staple food group.  
  
With thoughts of her less-than-appealing… whatever Xander now was to her in her mind, the brunette beauty became aware of the fact that conversation had, once again, sprung up around her. “That’s it,” Xander shrieked. Really, he should watch the pitch. Sometimes he could truly sound like a scared, little girl. Pushing his chair back and standing up hastily, the impatient washout complained, “I can’t take this any longer! Where’s Giles’ Jeanie when you need her? She calls us here, says it’s an emergency, and then leaves us to sit here without any answers, without any idea of what’s going on.”  
  
Despite the fact that she had previously been complaining to herself about Miss Calendar’s tardiness, Cordelia had, at least, shown enough tact not to say anything out loud. However, she wasn’t even sure if Xander knew what the word tact meant. If so, then he must purposely do his best to avoid ever using it.  
  
Continuing on, her occasional make-out buddy railed, “something could be wrong with Buffy, and we’re just expected to sit here and let the boogity-boos get her? No, I don’t think so!”  
  
“Boogity-boos,” Cordelia repeated in disbelief. “Please, tell me that you did not just say that.”  
  
“What, do you have something against alliteration?”  
  
“Only when it comes out of your mouth,” she returned his bickering. “I’m the queen of alliteration around here.”  
  
Xander returned, “oh, you just think you’re the queen of everything, don’t you?”  
  
“Damn straight.”  
  
Willow finally spoke up. “You guys are giving me a headache, and it’s not even eight o’clock yet. If I didn’t know what it would do to me, you two could drive me to drink coffee.”  
  
“Personally, I think they should just get a room already,” Oz piped in.  
  
Flabbergasted, the cheerleader glared at him. “You mean the two of us should have sex?”  
  
And Xander added, “together,” sounding just as much shocked and dismayed by the idea as she was. How dare he!  
  
“That’s disgusting,” she protested.  
  
“Horrifying,” her nemesis added.  
  
“Nightmare inducing.”  
  
“Totally and completely out of the question,” Xander proclaimed.  
  
“It would be physically impossible,” Cordelia finished for the both of them, “for someone like me to be with someone like him.”  
  
“Well, at least, we finally found something the two of you agree upon,” the redhead of the group spoke up brightly. Giles and Oz smirked in response, while the people in question merely glared. “Anyway, Xander, Buffy can take care of herself. If anything, if we went out and started looking for her, we’d probably just get ourselves into even more trouble. She has Angel, and we have… each other.”  
  
“Why am I not feeling comforted by that thought,” the pretty brunette snarked.  
  
Speaking up for the first time in several minutes, Giles attempted to reassure them. “Jenny… uh, Miss Calendar will be here momentarily, and I’m sure she’ll clear all of this up for us when she arrives. As for Buffy, I’m sure Willow is right; I’m sure she’s just fine. Perhaps, she’s sleeping in after her late night last night,” he suggested.  
  
Just then, the teacher they had all been waiting for finally showed up, apparently hearing the last part of the librarian’s comments. “Yes, by now, Buffy is probably asleep again.”  
  
“By now,” Xander parroted, “and again?” Really, that boy needed to find a new gimmick and fast. “What do you mean? Is Buffy alright? Is she in trouble? Does she…?”  
  
“Listen,” Miss Calendar interrupted the pushy, rambling teen. “I don’t know how to say this other than to come right out with what I have to tell you. Last night, Buffy… changed.”  
  
“What do you mean changed,” Willow asked thoughtfully. “I know she turned seventeen, but being one year older doesn’t make a person that much different.”  
  
The computer expert looked pained, looked as though, whatever it was that she had to say, it was difficult for her to get the words out. “Oh my god,” Cordelia realized, giggling softly to herself. “She and Angel had sex.”  
  
“What,” her nemesis argued indignantly. “Buffy would never… I mean, Deadboy? How utterly unappealing!”  
  
“Well, if anyone should be an expert in that area,” the cheerleader returned, not allowing the brunette loser to sidetrack her. “Anyway,” she turned back to the teacher, “that’s what you were trying to tell us, right, that Buffy’s no longer the pearly white princess you all hold her up on a pedestal for being? While I don’t see why that deserved an early morning wakeup call, it certainly does make for some juicy gossip.”  
  
Miss Calendar seemed to blush. “Well, yes, I guess they did… have sex, but that’s not what I meant.”  
  
“Oh,” she deflated. Despite being right, she was still wrong. She hated how that sometimes happened.  
  
“What I meant,” the computer expert persisted, “is that Buffy is no longer… human.”  
  
“She’s the slayer, so she hasn’t exactly been entirely human for a while now,” Willow attempted to puzzle her way through the older woman’s riddles. “But that’s not what you meant, right?”  
  
“Jenny,” the girl in question’s watcher beseeched, forgetting his usual formalities with his fellow coworker while they were in the presence of the teenagers. “Please, just tell us what you’re trying to say.”  
  
Without meeting anyone’s gaze, the female teacher sighed. “She’s a vampire.”  
  
“Deadboy made her into his matching Deadgirl? Why, I’ll…”  
  
“You’ll do nothing, Xander Harris, because you’re an ineffectual wimp, so sit down, shut up, and let Miss Calendar speak.”  
  
“For once, I happen to agree with Cordelia,” the librarian responded, sinking down in a boneless heap onto the nearest wooden chair. “How did this…” Taking off his glasses to wipe their already clear lenses clean once again, the British man stumbled over his words. “Angel didn’t…”  
  
“No,” the computer expert reassured him. “Angel didn’t turn her.”  
  
“But isn’t that how things like this usually go down,” Oz pointed out. “If he didn’t bite her, what brought on the change?”  
  
Perceptively, the cheerleader watched as the teacher struggled to find an answer. Finally, Miss Calendar replied, “we’re not exactly sure. But the good news is that she has somehow managed to retain her soul.”  
  
“Because she didn’t die,” Giles surmised. Standing up and beginning to pace, he demanded, “how did you come upon this information? Why didn’t Angel or even Buffy contact me?”  
  
“I couldn’t sleep this morning, so I was out for a walk.” Cordelia snorted quietly to herself. Like that was a likely story! No one took early morning walks in Sunnydale, at least not before the sun was up unless a person was suicidal, and, in order to get this kind of information, the online witch had to have been out before the demons went to bed. “While I was out, I ran into Angel who was on his way to Willy’s Bar to buy some blood.”  
  
“For Buffy,” the group’s redhead whispered, but they could all hear her two softly spoken words quite clearly. No one chose to comment upon them, though.  
  
Miss Calendar pressed on. “He asked that we start researching possible cures right away.”  
  
“But I really don’t see how we can do so if we don’t know what caused this to happen in the first place,” the watcher protested. “Surely, there’s more to the story. Are you positive that he didn’t tell you anything else, Jenny?”  
  
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him for yourself later.” With that, the computer science teacher started to move towards the door.  
  
“Where are you going,” her on-again, off-again boyfriend wanted to know. “Certainly, you’re not leaving. You just got here. You… blindsided us with this information, and, now, you’re just going to walk away?”  
  
“Rupert, I’m sorry.”  
  
Willow spoke up. “But Miss Calendar…”  
  
“Please, handle my classes for me today. I’ll call in to Mr. Snyder and tell him that I asked you to. He’ll understand.”  
  
The redhead persisted. “But where are you going?”  
  
“Home,” the teacher in question answered with a sigh. “I, uh, don’t feel so well.”  
  
“Yeah, I’d be feeling a little under the weather myself if I was responsible for keeping track of as many excuses and lies as you are currently juggling,” the cheerleader challenged. “Guess that early morning constitutional didn’t help much, did it?”  
  
“Cordelia,” Giles protested vehemently. Quickly skirting his gaze back to the woman he loved, he gently probed, “are you sure you couldn’t stay? I’m sure any help that you could offer us would be invaluable towards Buffy’s case.”  
  
“Really, I can’t.”  
  
“Well, then, at least take some books with you.” To aid in the matter, the librarian went to retrieve the computer expert some dated, dusty tomes. “I’ll check in with you later, to see how you are feeling, and you can tell me everything that you found out then.” By the time he turned around, though, arms laden down with large, supernatural volumes, Miss Calendar was already gone. “She left.”  
  
“Way to state the obvious, G-man,” Xander commented unnecessarily. The watcher was so distressed that he didn’t even correct or censure the younger man… however loosely the term could be applied. However, the pretty brunette made sure that she kicked the geeky deadbeat underneath the table, the heel of her shoe digging into his calf. “Hey!”  
  
Everyone ignored him… as always, as was advisable.  
  
“Giles,” Willow ventured hesitantly, “I hate bringing this up now, considering everything else, but did you think that Miss Calendar was acting a bit… out of the ordinary?”  
  
“I already told you,” the cheerleader huffed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder in what was meant to be a knowing manner. “She was lying through her teeth.”  
  
“It takes one to know one,” her nemesis quipped.  
  
In response, Cordy just glared at the immature little twit. “She’s hiding something, something important, and she doesn’t want us, specifically Giles to find out.”  
  
“And you know all of this how,” Oz questioned.  
  
“I watched her body language, and she never once looked a single one of us in the eye. Plus, she couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”  
  
“I say we just march on over to Angel’s place and drag him out into the sun,” Xander attempted to rally his friends… well, his friend, her new boyfriend, and the girl he was currently macking on in the janitor’s closet every chance he got. “This crisis has his fangs bitten all over it.”  
  
Attempting to stick up for the vampire, Cordelia excused, “but Miss Calendar already said that Angel didn’t bite Buffy.”  
  
“And you already said that she was pulling a Bill Clinton on us,” her sometimes make-out buddy countered.  
  
Finally, Giles spoke up, capturing everyone’s attention and, once more, preventing another massive argument. “This isn’t accomplishing anything. For now, Buffy is asleep, and she’ll probably remain asleep until after the sun sets. Willow, go speak to Principal Snyder about covering for Miss Calendar today. Oz and Xander, you both need to get to class.”  
  
“What about me,” the cheerleader asked, standing up to capture the watcher’s attention.  
  
“You’re going to help me research,” the librarian stated, already handing her a large pile of moldy works. “And don’t even attempt to claim homework again. While I might have been distracted earlier, I’m not now, and I know that you just wanted to get out of first period. Well, you got your wish. Start reading.”  
  
Before Xander could say a word, Giles cut him off. “Goodbye, Mr. Harris. I’ll see all of you after school. If anyone should ask you about Buffy, simply say that she’s sick. We’ll worry about her school work later.”  
  
“Yeah, I’d say the fact that she’s even more blood thirsty now than a starved leech takes precedence over whether or not she’ll receive an excused absence.”  
  
With that, the door slapped quietly closed after the three leaving students, and the brunette beauty was left alone in the library with the worried watcher. “Leave it to Xander to make every situation worse.”  
  
“Well, everybody has to be good at something in life,” Giles sighed, for once the two of them sharing a sympathetic glance. “You really don’t have homework, do you, Cordelia?”  
  
“Nothing that won’t hold until tomorrow,” she reassured him.  
  
“Thank you,” the British man replied honestly. “Now that everyone is gone, did you mean what you said? Was Jenny really lying earlier?”  
  
Glumly, the cheerleader nodded her head accordingly. Silently, she watched as the intelligent librarian practically withered in dejection before her very eyes. “I’m so sorry, Giles.”  
  
“Yes, well, you better start looking into those books, while I go and find us some more. I’m afraid we’re looking for a needle in a haystack here.”  
  
“Aren’t we always?”  
  
“Touché,” the watcher said with a slight smirk.  
  
As he disappeared and Cordelia lost herself in demons, spells, and the ancient lore of everything supernatural and beyond creepy, she finally had to admit to herself that there was one more reason as to why she helped out Buffy and her buffoons: if they weren’t around, who would she have left to make fun of? After all, they were her own personal evil, and she knew them all well. As a junior, she sure as hell didn’t want to have to go out and find a whole new crop of students to mock and deride. If that meant helping to keep the losers alive, then she would do her part… as little or as much as that may, in fact, be.  
  
If only it wasn’t so rough on her damn nails…


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

He had absolutely no hope that the next few minutes would go well. While Giles had attempted to dissuade both Xander and Willow from accompanying him to Angel’s apartment, the two teenagers had, at first, ignored his pleas and, then, later, outright denied him his request. Although they felt as though their best friend would both welcome and crave their unconditional support, the watcher knew better than to expect such a reaction from either the redhead or the class clown. Despite their good intentions, both Willow and Xander were too close to the situation to react favorably, let alone impartially.  
  
Truth be told, he feared Xander’s presence the most, not because of any underlying animosity towards the librarian’s slayer but due to his less than stellar opinion of the slayer’s boyfriend. No matter what Angel did to prove himself, the younger man was constantly against Buffy’s relationship with the souled vampire. Be it his jealousy, for it had been obvious when the blonde teen first arrived in Sunnydale that Xander had coveted her for more than just a new friend, a ridiculous sense of wounded, male pride, or a heady combination of both, whatever the slacker’s reason or reasons were, he resented Angel, and Giles was positive that, unlike before, now, after being changed, Buffy would not tolerate such an attitude from her human friend.  
  
And then there was Willow. While Willow didn’t object to Angel’s presence in her best friend’s life, she was, by far, the most emotional of their small group. He feared how she would respond to the physical changes in Buffy. Fear could both anger the fledgling and incite her, no doubt, ravenous appetite, pity could irritate the slayer, and sympathy could depress. The last thing they needed was for Buffy to give up hope. If she was going to fight the demon and regain control of her life by expelling the vampire spirit from inside of her, then she would need all her strength of mind and character to win.  
  
Realistically, the watcher knew that, no matter what their intentions may be, it could take several months, perhaps even years before they had even an idea of how to reverse whatever it was that had changed the slayer. If they only knew what had triggered the onset of the vampire traits, they would have a place to start looking. However, without proper knowledge, they had no place to begin their research, no previous precedent to seek out, and, so, it was imperative that Buffy not lose hope during the coming days, weeks, and fortnights.  
  
Parking his small, beyond outdated car outside of the building that housed Angel’s basement apartment, Giles sighed. For once, the group he traveled with was silent, and he appreciated the gesture even if it wasn’t offered as a gift to him. With what they were about to do weighing heavily upon all their minds, the teens were, no doubt, all quite adrift in their own chaotic thoughts. Willow sat sandwiched between both her childhood best friend and her new boyfriend in the back seat, and Cordelia was up front beside him.  
  
Removing his glasses, Rupert shined the already clear and smudge-free lenses once more before finally opening his car door, the apprehensive, inherent tendency his desperate attempt to infuse his own person with a much needed but also rather elusive sense of calm. Despite his best efforts, he came to his slayer with absolutely no new information. In fact, after an entire day spent reading through countless watcher journals and ancient tomes on the supernatural, he felt as though he now knew less than what he had at the very start of the day. Everything was cluttered and confused, his emotions getting the better of him. Perhaps that’s why he feared Buffy’s reaction to Willow so much, for, if ever he felt a kindred spirit with any of the teenagers, he felt it with the quiet, intellectual redhead, and he personally knew just how badly shaken he was by the revelation that the girl he had come to love as a daughter was now, in part, the very same kind of demon she was trained and called upon to fight to the death.  
  
Silently, the children followed his lead, removing themselves from his rattrap of a car and quickly lining up to proceed towards the two vampires waiting for them underground. Once more, Giles was confronted with his futile wish that their small group could be even smaller in number. Oddly enough, though, he was glad that he wasn’t alone. Ideally, he would have wanted Jenny by his side, supporting him, loving him, accepting him no matter what the early evening brought, but Cordelia was right when she said that the woman he was in love with was acting strange.  
  
In fact, he believed the self-centered cheerleader when she said that Jenny had been lying to all of them that morning. He feared that the computer expert knew more than what she was revealing about Buffy’s case, and what worried him the most was why, in fact, she felt the need to hide such important truths from him. Weren’t they past such early relationship mistakes? Hadn’t they built a bond that was based upon trust and honesty? Apparently not, the watcher realized sadly as he quietly slipped down the concrete steps towards the basement apartment.  
  
Since he couldn’t have Jenny with him, though, not that, given their presently rapidly deteriorating connection, her presence would have been a good thing, the librarian was thankful that both Oz and Cordelia were there with him. While he wasn’t particularly close with either teenager, Oz offered anyone he was around a sense of steadfast dependability, and Cordelia was, if nothing else, utterly frank, sometimes even to a fault. However, on that particular evening, he needed the musician’s consistent support and the cheerleader’s penchant for getting to the truth of a matter even when said truth wasn’t particularly appreciated, for both traits were ones he himself felt as though he were lacking on that specific night.  
  
Though the sun had just set moments before, Giles raised his hand and knocked promptly, succinctly on Angel’s front and only door. Granted, it might have been advisable for their group to wait a little while longer before confronting the centuries old vampire and his newly turned lover, but waiting had been driving the watcher mad all day, and he simply couldn’t put off the encounter any longer. So, consequences be damned, possible dangerous repercussions aside, the cavalry had arrived. It was time.  
  
It took several tense, protracted moments for Angel to answer. Once he did, he warily pulled the door open just far enough so that he could peek out and see who was there. With just a brief glance, the librarian could tell that he and the fellow members of his group had roused the souled vampire with their arrival. Angel’s hair was in slight disarray, he was shirtless, he hadn’t bothered to button his pants, and his dark, chocolate brown eyes were still hazy with sleep.  
  
“What time is it,” the ageless man asked. “Did… did we sleep in?”  
  
“No,” Giles responded. “It’s still early. The sun just went down. I’m afraid we just couldn’t wait any longer. You see, considering what has happened, we’re all quite anxious to see Buffy, to see for ourselves that…”  
  
“That I really didn’t hurt her,” Angel surmised.  
  
Though that was not what the watcher had meant, Xander picked that exact moment to announce his presence. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”  
  
Without responding, without answering the teen one way or another, the recently roused demon realized just how many people were standing outside of his door. “I really don’t know if this is such a good idea.”  
  
“Too bad,” Xander challenged, “because Buffy’s our friend. Just because you did something to her to change her into a fanged freak like yourself, that does not mean that you can keep her from us.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s exactly what he meant, genius,” Cordelia quipped, rolling her eyes. “And would you lay off the ‘Let’s Lynch Angel Campaign’ already? We already know that he didn’t bite her.”  
  
“But, apparently,” the vampire in question surmised, “you don’t know much more than that, do you?”  
  
“What else is there to know,” Willow questioned, shrugging her slight shoulders. “Miss Calendar already told us that you guys have no idea how this happened to Buffy.”  
  
“Oh, I think I have an idea, with or without www.wicca-girl’s help,” the redhead’s best friend groused under his breath. Everyone, including Giles, ignored him.  
  
“Listen, Buffy’s still asleep, and I’m not sure how much longer she’ll be out. Considering everything that has happened to her in the past twenty-four hours, I really don’t want to wake her either, but it’s obvious that we need to talk, so, if you can keep your voices down…”  
  
“Maybe it would be better if some of us left,” the librarian suggested. “I’m sure it will be slightly disconcerting for Buffy should she wake up and find an entire audience watching over her.”  
  
“Nice try, Giles,” Xander argued, “but your reasons didn’t work before, and they’re not going to work now. The Buffster needs us, maybe now more than ever, and I, for one, am not about to abandon my friend.”  
  
“Yeah, but you’ll willingly accuse, prosecute, and convict her boyfriend without even bothering to hear him out,” the cheerleader flung back at the hotheaded teen.  
  
Apparently realizing that he was stuck with all five of them, Angel simply opened his door wider and allowed the group entrance to his small home. As they roamed about and found places to either sit or stand as they waited for the upcoming meeting to commence, the souled vampire moved back to where his bed was positioned in the far back corner of the room to quickly toss on the rest of his clothes, the same bed where the watcher’s slayer was still very much sound asleep.  
  
As he observed her unconscious form, it was difficult for Giles to connect the sight before his eyes to the knowledge he possessed in his mind. While he knew that Buffy was now a vampire, at least temporarily, the girl who was resting before him looked every bit as human, every bit as innocent as she had been the night before when he had said goodnight to her. It was hard for him to grasp that so much had changed within such a short time frame. It boggled the mind, perhaps because the very idea that his slayer could become part demon was a thought he really didn’t want to face in the first place.  
  
Concern for the seventeen year old won out over his quest for further knowledge from Angel, and he found himself quietly addressing Buffy’s boyfriend. “How is she?”  
  
“Confused,” Angel answered, shrugging his shoulders even as he continued to respond, “overwhelmed, but, generally, she’s holding it together much better than I am. While she doesn’t believe me, for a fledgling, she has unbelievable control over her new instincts, her new strengths and weaknesses.”  
  
“Please,” Xander exploded, stalking across the room to come to a stop directly in front of the souled vampire’s frowning face. “And we’re just supposed to take your word for it, the famed Angelus? Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”  
  
“Are you finished now,” the very much in control demon asked.  
  
“No, I’ve just barely gotten started,” the teenager retaliated. Taking a step closer to Angel, he pressed on. “Let me put this in a way that’s simple enough for you to understand.”  
  
“Oh, this should be rich,” Cordelia murmured, and, out of the corner of his eyes, Giles saw the pretty brunette roll her own.  
  
“Buffy is now a vampire. She drinks blood. Before, Buffy was the slayer. She killed _things_ that drank blood. She cleansed the world of all the scary monsters, but, now, she is a scary monster herself, and all this just so happened to go down when she was with you, so call me crazy…”  
  
“Crazy, insane, suicidal, out of your mind, loony, a nutcase,” the cheerleader interrupted, sarcastically following the ranting teen’s directions, but Xander paid her no mind.  
  
“… but I know this has something to do with you.”  
  
Shocking everyone, Angel just simply stated, “you’re right, it does, but it’s not what you think.”  
  
“Oh, really,” the younger man taunted, “and what exactly is that, Deadboy?”  
  
Before the centuries old vampire could respond, Xander was practically thrown across the room. Landing in an ineffectual, crumpled heap upon the cold floor, he sat there stunned as he gazed up at the force that had tossed him aside as if he weighed no more than a measly piece of paper.  
  
Buffy.  
  
It only took Giles a few seconds to absorb the various, disparaging reactions being displayed by their group. The first thing he noticed was that his slayer’s face had morphed. She now stared back at them or, more precisely, at Xander through the eyes of her demon. At the same time, the mouthy teen finally stopped talking, too surprised and also slightly scared to even consider uttering another word. Oz appeared both vaguely awed and somewhat bored at the same time. It was an odd expression from the musician. Cordelia simply looked smug, for, obviously, she had predicted such a reaction from Buffy, while Angel simply appeared knowing, as though he wasn’t startled by his girlfriend’s sudden and intense defense of him. Finally, there was Willow. Immediately, she rushed to her childhood best friend’s side, helping him to sit up and checking to make sure that nothing more than his pride was injured. She appeared both torn and accusing, both frightened and sad all at the same time. Tears were tricking out of the corners of her wide, expressive orbs.  
  
Although Buffy’s behavior was startling considering her past relationship with Xander, it was evident to the watcher that some of their group had already seemed to have forgotten that she was no longer the girl they once knew. She had changed… in more ways than one and quite drastically. Quickly, the librarian mentally went over his accumulated knowledge of vampires.  
  
Although Angel was not the slayer’s sire, there had been a bond between them before the seventeen year old was turned. Because both of them retained possession of their souls despite the demons residing within them, it made perfect sense that they could feel every emotion capable of humans. Giles just found himself wondering what had inspired within the fledgling such complete and utter devotion to her boyfriend. While Buffy had always defended Angel to anyone who would listen, she had never been physically violent towards Xander and his inappropriate, underserved hatred of the other man.  
  
Realization dawned. “She drank from you,” Giles muttered, addressing the question to no one in particular and, yet, at the same time, everyone in the entire apartment.  
  
It was Angel, though, who responded, and the librarian had the distinct impression that he would be a dominant participator in their upcoming conversation. It would certainly be a role reversal. “Yes, but only briefly. I think it’s important that we start from the beginning, though, to make sure that you clearly understand the situation.”  
  
“I agree,” the British man stated emphatically, already moving to take a seat. As he did so, he removed his glasses, pulled his handkerchief from his trouser’s pocket, and proceeded to cleanse the smudge-free spectacles.  
  
The souled vampire glanced pointedly at both Willow and Xander. “For everyone’s benefit, I think it would be best if certain parties waited outside.”  
  
“I’m not going…”  
  
“Leave, Xander,” Giles interrupted the headstrong teenager, speaking harshly. “And, Willow, I think you should go with him. Oz, will you…?”  
  
“Yeah,” the musician immediately agreed, never once removing his gaze from Buffy who was still standing defensively in front of her boyfriend, clad only in one of his shirts. “Consider it handled.”  
  
It only took the quiet, older student several tense moments to usher his girlfriend and his girlfriend’s best friend outside of the basement level flat, leaving the watcher with his slayer, his slayer’s boyfriend, and, oddly enough, Cordelia Chase. Once the door closed behind the fleeing trio, Angel prompted, “maybe you should tell me what you already know,” and, with that, he guided Buffy back to the bed where they sat down together, side by side, hands clasped together. The distance between the couple and the teacher-student pair comforted Giles, but then the realization that he felt more secure further away from his slayer made him disappointed in himself.  
  
“Actually, if it is alright with you, I think that Cordelia should be the one to inform you of our conversation with Jenny.”  
  
Before either vampire could respond, the sudden hostile cheerleader remarked, “if you could even call it that.” Scoffing, she added, “that woman lied so much this morning and did so much covering that it was nearly impossible to figure out what was the truth and what wasn’t. Basically, all I got from her so-called meeting was the fact that Buffy was now a vampire and that you,” the brunette nodded towards the centuries old demon, “weren’t responsible.”  
  
“So, she told you nothing about her own involvement in all this,” Angel wanted to know.  
  
“Like I said,” Cordelia supplied, “if Pinocchio had a mother, she would be her.”  
  
Redirecting their conversation back on track, Giles requested, “what exactly do you mean by her own involvement?”  
  
This time, surprising all of them, it was Buffy to answer. With the other teenagers gone and her face back to normal, she looked completely in control of her emotions and urges once again. “Apparently, Calendar isn’t her real last name. It’s Kalderash.”  
  
“As in the gypsy family who cursed you,” the watcher asked, aiming his question towards the Irish vampire.  
  
“The one and only.”  
  
“Is she estranged from them,” he wanted to know, searching for answers, hoping his one suggestion was the correct one. If it wasn’t… Well, the librarian really didn’t even want to consider what other reason Jenny might have had for being in Sunnydale under an assumed name, the very same town where Angel himself was residing.  
  
“The opposite, actually,” Buffy’s boyfriend responded. “She was sent here by her family to watch me.” Holding up a hand to prevent further questions, he expanded upon his reply. “Apparently, there was a clause attached to the curse that the Kalderashes put upon me, a happiness clause. If I were to ever experience a moment of true happiness, my soul would, once again, be taken from me.”  
  
“Well, that’s just about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” the brunette beauty complained. “Why would they ever do something like that? Sure, they hated your guts, but to risk letting Angelus off the soul leash once again is just suicide.”  
  
“While I agree with what Cordelia just said, what exactly does this have to do with what has happened with Buffy?”  
  
“Giles, you know as well as I do that magic is flexible. While a spell can be cast, it’s not an exact science, and things go wrong all the time. Not only has Angel’s curse been in existence for one hundred years, but it was at the whim of the supernatural powers that entire time. What do you think would hurt him worse,” the slayer posed, “losing his soul again or me losing my humanity?”  
  
“Well, when you put it like that,” the librarian stated, his words trailing off forlornly. Suddenly, he sat up straight, piercing the vampiric couple with an intense gaze. “Did Jenny know of this clause?”  
  
“Not initially,” Angel answered, “but she’s known for a little while, at least a couple of days.”  
  
“And she never said anything to either of you, right,” Cordelia wanted to know. By the accusing nature of her voice, it was evident that the question was meant to be rhetorical.  
  
“As quiet as a mouse,” the newly turned demon supplied the cheerleader’s unnecessary answer anyway.  
  
“So, let me get this straight,” the brunette pressed. “Last night, the two of you came back here, had sex, and, then, this morning, Buffy, you woke up a vampire?” Before anyone could answer her, she continued, “but, at the same time, you’re still the slayer, right, so you’re like… double as strong, double as deadly? I mean, look at the way you handled Xander. He was no more than a fly that you were swatting out of irritation, and, though I can completely sympathize with your frustration, I can only wish that I could handle him as easily as you just did.”  
  
“Yes, well, that is possible,” the watcher reasoned, “but, at this point, I think our focus needs to be on reversing the spell, not examining its effects upon Buffy. Hopefully, we’ll be able to revert everything back to normal before such study is required.”  
  
“I agree,” Angel stated without delay.  
  
Giles was so lost in thought, contemplating what he could do for his slayer, and tied up in knots over the betrayal he felt from his girlfriend’s actions, that he didn’t notice the conspiratorial glance shared between Buffy and Cordelia. Had he, the librarian might have possibly become even more worried than he already was.  
  
“At least, now, we have a place to start our research,” he said. “We can narrow our search to spells, witchcraft, and the gypsy people, and, although she has not been very forthcoming so far, hopefully, Miss Calendar will be able to assist us as well.”  
  
“Wouldn’t count on it,” the cheerleader quipped. Although Angel did not verbally mutter his agreement, it, along with a deep seeded, intense surge of anger, was clearly visible upon his handsome, pale face.  
  
“Wait, I think you’re all forgetting something even more important. We still have The Judge to contend with,” Buffy pointed out. “It won’t matter what I am – vampire, slayer, or mere human if Spike and Drusilla get the apocalypse they so desire. Our first priority has to be stopping them.”  
  
“She has a point,” Cordelia quickly sided with the blonde. “There’s no way I want that creep to lay one of his metal claws on me.”  
  
“Well, alright then,” the watcher surmised. “We have our work cut out for us.” Standing, he addressed the vampiric couple. “If you two would collect as much information as you can from your various… sources on about this Judge character, I have a quick errand to run, and then I’ll be heading back to the library to continue my own research.”  
  
“Hey, what about me,” the cheerleader protested as she followed the British man towards the door, Buffy and Angel remaining where they had been all throughout their discussion.  
  
“You get to fill in the others,” Giles replied.  
  
The whole way to the car, Cordelia complained, but he ignored her. He had more important things on his mind – the imminent end of days if they didn’t stop Spike and Drusilla, Buffy’s transformation, and Jenny’s deception. He could only deal with one crisis at a time, though; he couldn’t handle anything more than that.  
  
First up, he was going to go see the lovely, lying Miss Kalderash. They had a few things they needed to discuss.


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

By drawing the heavy drapes and refusing to turn on a single light, Jenny had secluded herself in the dark all day long. In fact, she wasn’t even sure what time it was. By the time she returned from her disastrous meeting with Rupert and the teens at the library, it had barely been morning. The sun was up, but the dew had still been on the grass, the heat of the day yet to burn it off. Now, though, hours later, it could have been afternoon or even early evening, and she wouldn’t have known the difference.  
  
It didn’t matter, though. She wanted to be in seclusion, and the depressing nature of her surroundings fit her mood. The smiling sun would have mocked her pain, and the unnatural illumination of a lamp or even the television would have taunted her, because it was just another reminder of how fake her own existence was. For the computer expert, the light had gone out of her life, and she had no one to blame but herself.  
  
She felt it was fitting as well. After all, she had sentenced a young, beautiful, incredibly promising girl to an eternity spent in darkness. It was because of her selfishness that Buffy was now a vampire, so Jenny wouldn’t grant herself even the simplest of pleasures. Light, for the brunette teacher, now fit into that category.  
  
She wouldn’t be alone forever, though. Inevitably, someone would stop by, and chances were that person would not be appearing on her doorstep out of a sudden need to pay a social call. Whether it was Angel fulfilling his promise to take matters into his own hands should dusk come and no cure have been discovered, Rupert searching for answers only she could provide, or Buffy needing to face the woman who had helped to curse her into becoming a vampire, she had no doubt that, eventually, there would be a knock at her door, and she would be forced to face the music.  
  
When she had left earlier that day, her destination set upon the school, Jenny had possessed every intention of telling the man she loved and the children he mentored exactly what had happened to their slayer and friend, respectively, but, when she walked into that library, when she saw Rupert’s expectant face and the trust radiating from Willow’s bright and expressive orbs, she took the coward’s way out yet again.  
  
Perhaps it was because of the crowd, she wasn’t sure. During the long, dragging hours, the Gypsy descendent contemplated her own actions, and she had found herself wondering if she had held back the truth because the teenagers had been there. If she had been alone with Rupert, she believed, she hoped that she would have been brave enough to confront his hurt and disgust, but, to inform him of her betrayals in front of the very children he loved, the children who looked up to him, all that would have done was prove to embarrass him as well. Weren’t private humiliation and the turning of his slayer enough torture for the watcher to endure in one solitary day?  
  
The reasoning sounded good, especially after an entire morning and, perhaps, even an entire afternoon spent thinking about it, but Jenny knew that it was less of an explanation and more of a paltry attempt at excusing her own actions and granting herself, at least, temporary absolution. When she lied to the man she loved and Buffy’s closest friends, she had only been attempting to spare herself. No one else. That was the harsh and ugly truth, perhaps the only truth she had been capable of in a very long time. Such self awareness was a decidedly unpleasant pill to swallow.  
  
Despite recognizing the error of her own ways, the computer teacher knew that, even if given a second chance to confess her sins, she would have taken the very same shameful path over and over again. And so she remained there, seated, silent, sickened by her own actions or, more precisely, her own inactions. Perched upon the very same ottoman Angel had collapsed upon early that morning when he had arrived at her apartment seeking knowledge, her back ached, but, still, she didn’t move. Rather, she just stared straight ahead, seeing nothing at all.  
  
She didn’t notice the comfort of her own furnishings. She didn’t recognize the fact that she was still wearing the exact outfit she had put on the day before. She never heard the phone ring, and she certainly missed the soft sounds of the postman stopping before her front door and dropping her bills and flyers through the mail slot. Though actually there, she really wasn’t; though awake, she wished that she was actually suffering though a very long, very detailed, very cruel nightmare, but her hope was gone, and wishing was an empty action. There was no mercy for merciless.  
  
Breaking the stillness of the gloomy apartment, there was a knock at her home’s entrance, but Jenny never stirred to answer the call. There had been so many previous, imagined knocks, at that point, even if the latest was a reality, she wasn’t sure she would be able to tell the difference until someone took the silent invitation that her unlocked door presented and entered without her bidding them to do so. She had envisioned what she would say, what she would do when someone finally showed up to confront her for so long that the lines between what was real and what was not had been blurred beyond recognition.  
  
“Why didn’t you answer the door?”  
  
Lifting her lashes, the brunette watched as the man far across from her on the other side of the room let himself into her home and simply just stepped over her puddle of dropped and ignored mail. There was no greeting, no expressed concern over the fact that she had left her front door unlocked in Sunnydale of all dangerous towns, and the voice that delivered the harsh opening remark was so cold and detached she wouldn’t have been able to identify it had she not been able to see the body that possessed it with her own two, weary eyes.  
  
“Hello, Rupert.”  
  
“Miss Kalderash,” the librarian returned stiffly, folding his hands behind his rigid back. His usually soft, warm gaze never came close to even touching upon her bent and figuratively broken form.  
  
“So, it’s come to that already,” she realized, a solitary tear leaking out of her right eye before she squared her resolve and promised herself that she wouldn’t cry anymore until she was, once again, alone. “You can’t look at me. You can’t even call me by my first name.”  
  
“One traditionally, in polite society,” the watcher snobbishly retorted, “does not refer to a stranger by their given name, and, frankly, I have no idea who you are.”  
  
“And you’re not going to give me a chance to explain?”  
  
“Oh, no,” Giles disputed. “I most certainly want to hear what you have to say for yourself. However, there is nothing you could possibly say that could change how I feel right now.”  
  
“From where I’m sitting,” Jenny whispered, curling her trembling fingers together into a tight knot of frustration and pain. “You’re not feeling much of anything.”  
  
“To the contrary, but you forget that I have more than a decade of watcher training. We are both skilled and practiced at restraining and disregarding our emotions, especially when we are face to face with the enemy.”  
  
“But isn’t that just it, Rupert,” the computer expert contended. “Aren’t we in this position right now because you’re incapable of not allowing your feelings to rule you when it comes to Buffy?”  
  
Raising both his voice and his gaze for the first time, the British man glared at the teacher. “Never say her name again.”  
  
“And you just proved my point.”  
  
He ignored her. “We’re here because you kept something life altering from me, something potentially life ending; we’re here because you lied.”  
  
“I did,” Jenny agreed without argument. “I lied to you over and over again. I lied to you about my identity, I lied to you every single time that we were with Angel and I never told you that I knew him, and I lied to you this morning when I didn’t tell you about the clause. And I’m sorry. Don’t you think that, if I could, I would change everything?”  
  
“I don’t know,” the librarian stated. “I feel as if I don’t know anything anymore. Nothing makes sense. Would you, would you really have done everything differently?”  
  
“Of course,” she exclaimed, pleading with the man she loved to believe her. “The happiness clause never should have existed. How my family could have been so selfish to include it, to risk the safety of so many innocent people, I’ll never know or understand.”  
  
Exploding, Giles yelled, “I don’t care about the bloody clause. The curse was made a hundred years ago, long before either you or I were alive. You couldn’t have possibly done anything to get rid of it, but you could have helped us prepare for it. What I want to know is if _you_ would have done anything differently? Would you have confided in me your true identity when we first became friends, would you have put your damn, foolish vengeance aside to have told me the truth earlier? For crying out loud, what if Angel would have lost his soul again? Can you imagine what he could have done to Buffy?”  
  
Cocking her head to the side, the cyber pagan observed the man before her. He was quivering in rage but, at the same time, cowering in fear, not of her but of the situation. “That’s what this all boils down to, isn’t it? You really don’t care that I lied to _you_ ; all you care about is that what I lied to you about concerned Buffy?”  
  
“She’s… she’s my slayer,” the man she loved excused his own feelings.  
  
“And you’re her watcher, I know.”  
  
“It is my sacred duty to train, teach, and protect her.”  
  
“Because,” Jenny completed the words that the librarian himself had failed to mention, “in every way that counts, she’s your daughter.”  
  
Gathering himself, the British man said, “what I may or may not feel for Buffy is immaterial at the moment and, frankly, none of your business.”  
  
“I disagree,” the computer expert stated. “At this point, it makes no sense for us to go back and forth about what I did wrong. I lied. I broke your trust in me. Those two things are inexcusable, and, if I were in your shoes, Rupert, I would probably feel the same way that you do. But your love for Buffy does matter, because this is the end of us, and the only reason we’re over is because I hurt the girl you love. It has nothing to do with the fact that I hurt you.”  
  
“And that’s okay,” the teacher stated simply, shrugging her shoulders. “In fact, it’s admirable. Buffy deserves your loyalty and your affection, and I know that she feels just as much for you as you do her, but don’t make this break up about my mistakes. We never could have worked together as a couple, because I never would have been first in your life. It was a doomed relationship from the start. We just didn’t see it until now.”  
  
Giles stared at her, mouth agape. Finally, he gathered himself enough to say, “I really fail to see how this is relevant at the moment. My slayer is now a vampire, and you’re worried about who is to blame for…”  
  
“Just, please,” she begged. At that point, she wasn’t above pleading. Hell, Jenny didn’t believe that she was above anything anymore. “I need to do this. I need closure. You need closure.”  
  
With the spreading of his open palms, the librarian conceded, allowing her to continue, but the computer expert could sense both his impatience and his lack of interest in what she had to say. Still, though, she pushed on. “I will always be sorry for what I did to Buffy. For as long as I have known her, and, granted, that hasn’t been very long, the most important thing to her has always been to somehow find a way to maintain a sense of normalcy in her completely atypical existence. She stayed in school, made friends, she even dated, albeit a vampire, but, if I know nothing else, I know that you can’t help who you love. And, now, because of my selfishness, my fear, I’ve taken any last chance she ever would have had at normalcy away from her. My actions will haunt me for the rest of my life… even if Angel doesn’t.”  
  
Despite the brave, perhaps foolish attempt at a little levity, her poorly timed and poorly executed joke fell on deaf ears. Taking a deep breath, the Gypsy descendent stood up and took several steps towards the man she loved, the man whom she knew could never love her again even if he wanted to. “As for the curse’s clause, I swear to you that I had no idea it even existed until a few days ago when my uncle called me to tell me about it. I realize you have absolutely no reason to believe me at this point, but I am telling you the truth. Through the regular channels, he heard about the slayer dating the souled vampire, and he became concerned, so he contacted me, informing me that I needed to fix the problem immediately.  
  
“When the situation with The Judge presented itself, I jumped upon it. If I could manage to send Angel away from Sunnydale, away from Buffy, without anyone suspecting that I was involved in this anymore than in the obvious way, then I was going to take advantage of such an opportunity. With any luck, by the time he returned, Buffy would have given up on him or moved on, and I would have been able to breathe easy again.  
  
“But it didn’t end up working that way, and, before I could up with another plan, things had already spun so far out of my control, there was no hope of regaining a grasp upon the situation. While I’d like to think that eventually, after I had time to adjust to the knowledge myself, I would have told you everything, I truthfully don’t know if I would have, and I’ll never know. What’s done is done, and there’s no going back. All we can do, from this point on, is move forward.”  
  
Finally, the watcher intervened. “Now, that is what I came here to discuss with you. What can you tell me about this clause?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Excuse me,” he breathed out. Shock, dismay, and mistrust colored his two softly uttered words. “What do you mean ‘nothing?’”  
  
“Exactly that,” Jenny stated simply. “All my uncle told me was that, if Angel ever experienced a true moment of happiness, the curse would be reversed, and he would, once again, lose his soul. I never thought…”  
  
“Well, you should have,” Rupert accused. “Somebody bloody well should have!”  
  
“I agree. As for how this clause can be overturned, I have no idea. As far as I know, it can’t be, but, then again, I never thought that Buffy would be turned into a vampire either, so I’m not exactly a beacon of supernatural knowledge at this point. If you would like, I would gladly help you get in touch with my uncle. While I’m unsure as to how much he could assist you either, I do believe that it is my family’s duty to do whatever it is they can to return Buffy to her previous demon-free form.”  
  
“You’re damn right it is!”  
  
“Furthermore,” the teacher continued as if the watcher had not interrupted her, “you’re welcome to any of my books, though my collection is far inferior to your own, and Willow is more than welcome to use my computer and any of the contacts I have online. Other than that, though,” the brunette sighed, once more backing away from the man she loved. “I can’t offer you anything else.”  
  
Turning around, Giles returned to the door he had left standing open. Stepping on her mail, he paused momentarily. “While I believed this to be a futile gesture, I came anyway, perhaps hoping for better results. I see that I have wasted my time.”  
  
“Goodbye, Rupert,” Jenny offered.  
  
“I’m afraid I cannot say the same in return,” was the only response she received from the British man. Once he was gone, the sound of his car fading away as he drove off, she walked towards her front door, closed it, but, again, left the lock unengaged. After all, she had already seen and faced her own personal hell already; somebody else’s idea of damnation, even if that person was a demon, really couldn’t frighten her at that point.


	8. Part Eight

**Part Eight**

He was a small guy. The fact had never truly bothered him before, but, as he stood on the fringes of their ragtag group that evening in the library, Oz realized his vertically challenged stature was a shortcoming, pun intended. At any moment, a fight was going to break out between them. Whether it was Cordelia and Xander finally coming to blows over their mountain sized list of differences, or the cheerleader and his girlfriend, the contrasting aspects of their personalities simply clashing just one time too many, he wasn’t sure, but, whatever the names on the clash’s marquee, it was going to be up to him to stop it, and, frankly, he wasn’t sure he was capable of doing so.  
  
Preferably, he’d rather have to separate Willow and Cordelia. Not only was the redhead capable of listening to reason, but she also wasn’t a malicious person like her would-be opponent. No matter what else could be said about Cordelia Chase, despite her picturesque appearance, she was no shrinking violet. The brunette had always managed to hold her own and, oftentimes, win when faced with a battle against the most ruthless, most underhanded fighters in all of Sunnydale high – the cheerleaders, her own friends, and the musician knew he would be no match to stop her wrath.  
  
But the odds of Willow actually raising her hand in violence against another person were slim. She just didn’t have it in her, and that was one of the things Oz liked the most about the girl he had just recently started dating. No, it was more likely that the scuffle would occur between the Cordelia and her arch nemesis. Complete opposites with nothing in common, the cheerleader had always loathed Xander, and the feeling was decidedly mutual.  
  
While no match for the athletes that bullied him, Xander was a linebacker compared to the guitarist. Both in stature and in strength, there was no way that Oz could realistically hold him back if the younger teen decided to advance his battle of words with the brunette beauty into an actual brawl, and he knew that the last thing their group needed was to come to blows with each other. They already had enough things to worry about; they didn’t need to add dissention in the ranks to that ever growing list.  
  
Not only was their fearless leader suddenly incapable of dying, something that normally would be a positive for a slayer, but she was also a vampire, the very thing they all banded together to fight. Then there was also Miss Calendar’s betrayal. Never had the computer expert even once done anything to prepare Oz for the revelation of her true identity. He had trusted her completely, but, even now, with all his newly acquired knowledge he didn’t blame himself for trusting the teacher. She had seemed sincere enough, and the truth of the matter was that the reality of her life was really just too extraordinary to have possibly have suspected. He shouldn’t have been surprised, though, for they did live on the Hellmouth, and the center for all things supernatural and odd never quite allowed them to forget their unfortunate location either.  
  
Oh, and there was also The Judge, some ancient demon whose history was more worthy of a horror film than it was a non-fiction book. The entity, with the assistance of Spike, Drusilla, and their minions, was intent upon sending all of humanity straight into hell unless they stopped it, and there just so happened to be not a single way known to man to kill the monster.  
  
So, basically, everything was falling apart around them, and Oz could see absolutely no way to put it back together. And the worst part? He seemed to be the only one at the moment who actually wanted to even attempt to do so.  
  
“Buffy, she just… I don’t know. She seemed so accepting of everything.”  
  
“Trust me, Will,” the redhead’s best friend replied. “I know. She seemed to have absolutely no problem attacking me. Let me tell you, after she threw me across that room, I’m not too sure about the whole ‘she didn’t die, so she didn’t lose her soul’ thing. She seemed pretty soulless to me.”  
  
“Well, what did you expect,” Cordelia tossed her own hat into the ring. “After your oh-so-brilliant display of resentful compassion towards the man she loves, did you honestly think Buffy would just smile and pat you on the head for being a good, little boy?”  
  
Still unwilling to see anyone’s point but his own, the slacker responded, “I certainly didn’t expect her to look at me like I was some sort of sunset snack.”  
  
“Oh, please,” the cheerleader huffed. “If Buffy has made nothing else clear since she’s moved to Sunnydale, it’s that she has absolutely no interest in ever tasting you, Harris. Now that she’s a vampire, trust me, she’ll want you even less.”  
  
“That’s funny coming from you.”  
  
Although his girlfriend didn’t quite catch the innuendo laced in Xander’s statement, Oz did. It just cemented the suspicion he had been having for several days that there was more to the bickering twosome’s relationship than what met the eye. However, Willow was too lost in her own train of thought to even follow someone else’s, and she certainly, in that moment, wasn’t capable of picking up on a slight shift in the room’s mood.  
  
“Snacks,” she sighed, falling down to land unceremoniously in one of the library’s wooden chairs. With slumped shoulders, a weary frown, and the saddest eyes the musician had ever seen, she clarified, “Buffy will never enjoy her favorite snacks again.”  
  
“I’m sure Xander will be more than willing to eat her share of the donuts as well.”  
  
“Oh, no, Cordy,” the teen in question disputed. “I’d happily share my food with the Buffster. You on the other hand…”  
  
“Yeah, like I would ever want to put something in my mouth that was within even a five yard radius of you.”  
  
Once more, Willow ignored the squabbling duo. “And what about school,” the redhead asked, sounding practically desperate. “She won’t be able to attend now that she’s a…”  
  
“A blood sucking freak, Will,” Xander supplied his best friend. “It’s okay to say it.”  
  
Ignoring him, the guitarist attempted to reassure the girl he was rapidly falling for. “I’m sure Giles will work something out. If nothing else, he’ll be able to tutor her so that she can get her GED.”  
  
“Yeah, but it won’t be the same. We won’t be able to see her everyday…”  
  
“Lucky us,” Cordelia piped in. “And lucky Buffy,” she added upon further inspection. “Kind of makes me want to get my fang on as well, but I would never look good with skin that pale.”  
  
“And what about prom, and senior career day, and the SAT’s,” Willow continued, still totally oblivious to anything but her own frame of mind. “She’ll miss everything.”  
  
“Yeah, because those events are all just a barrel of fun,” her best friend quipped. “Personally, I think Buffy has bigger things to worry about than having the perfect excuse to blow off her entire senior year of high school and the rest of her junior year. Like, for instance,” the slacker suggested, “her mom.”  
  
“Oh, poor Joyce,” Oz’s girlfriend sympathized. “All she’s going to understand is that she lost her daughter, because there’s no way Buffy or even Giles will be able to explain to Mrs. Summers how her daughter is all of a sudden a vampire.”  
  
“Personally, I think it’s all kind of cool,” Cordelia spoke up. “She’s always been… different… because of the whole slayer thing, so, now, she finally gets to embrace that fact. She won’t have to pretend to be what she isn’t, and she won’t have to attempt to be normal just to fit in, because, let’s face it, Buffy’s life is going to be anything but normal from now on. She won’t have to go to school, she’ll get to move out of her house and live without parents, and she and Angel will be able to do whatever they want whenever they want. There are no more unknown complications standing in their way.”  
  
“You would find the fact that Buffy and Deadboy can have sex whenever they want now to be a good thing.”  
  
“Uh, duh,” the cheerleader snarked. “Angel’s totally hot, and he’s way into Buffy. They love each other, so why shouldn’t they get to be together?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Xander mockingly questioned, standing up to advance towards his nemesis, “maybe because the last time they got their freak on one of my best friends turned into a monster.”  
  
“You see a monster when you look at Buffy,” Cordelia responded, “but I see someone who finally has a chance to be happy, not to mention the fact that she’s going to be one unstoppable slayer now. And just wait until Angel drinks from her. The two of them, their strengths combined and multiplied…? Well, let’s just say goodbye Hellmouth, because it sure as hell won’t last for much longer.”  
  
“Since when did you become such a Positive Polly,” the clown of their group wanted to know.  
  
“Xander, she has a valid point,” Oz joined into the conversation. “Were you not paying attention when Buffy threw you across Angel’s apartment, because I was, and she didn’t even try to really hurt you?”  
  
“And what about children,” Willow argued, completely ignoring their current track of thought. If they had been outside, crickets would have greeted her in reply. “Think about it,” she pressed. “Buffy will never be able to have kids now.”  
  
“I highly doubt she would have anyway,” Cordelia dismissed the idea. “Even before she became a vampire, she was still the slayer. Chances are she would have been dead way before she started thinking about settling down and ruining her figure with babies. Besides, she’s dating Angel. He can’t have kids anyway.”  
  
“Like the two of them would have always been together,” Xander argued. A pointed glare from the cheerleader made him protest further. “Oh, come on! She would have dumped the guy eventually and found someone else, someone more… human.”  
  
“Someone, perhaps,” the pretty brunette taunted, realizing what her nemesis meant, “a little bit more like you? Not in a million years, Harris,” she immediately rejected the thought.  
  
“Hey, now,” the teen in question started to argue, but his best friend quickly cut him off.  
  
“I think you guys are all missing the point here.”  
  
“No, you are,” Cordelia snapped. “What’s done is done, thanks to Miss Calendar’s lies, and the chances are that we won’t be able to do anything about it. Grow up, quit moping, and just accept the fact that you’ll never get _your_ Buffy back. She’s different now. So what?! If you’re really her friend, you’ll help her, not hold her back by pointing out all the things that are about to change in her life and all the things that she’s going to miss now that she’s not human.”  
  
And, just like that, all around the guitarist, a raging battle broke out. Xander and Cordy were fighting about how easily she had written off the idea of Buffy ever wanting to be with him, Xander and Willow were fighting over the various things their friend would now be excluded from, and Cordelia and his girlfriend were arguing over how easily the cheerleader had come to accept the slayer’s changes. It was chaos, and, despite his best attempts to get between them, to stem their angry, hurtful words, to safely bring them all back to a slow boil, Oz was completely out of his element. Eventually, he admitted defeat, slid down to sit upon the stairs, and merely closed his eyes.  
  
“What in the hell is going on in here,” Giles’ voice rang out, thundering across the expansive library. “I sent you back here to start the necessary research, and I find that not even a single book has been opened.” Tightening his anger, he faced off against Cordelia. “And you,” the watcher narrowed his gaze. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that this… situation is hopeless again. Do you hear me?”  
  
“I’m just being realistic,” the brunette beauty defended herself. “Maybe you should try the approach yourself sometime.”  
  
And, just like that, the librarian was swept into the tidal wave of pain, fury, and resentment that the three teens were drowning in. In fact, the four of them were so lost in their endeavors to prove themselves and their position upon Buffy’s transformation correct that they never saw two more people enter the room, and they certainly didn’t respond accordingly. He did, though, and Oz sat up a little straighter, shrugging his shoulders in both a response to the couple’s silent question and in an effort to project his sympathy.  
  
“You know, I once heard that the true monsters of the world are of the human variety,” the recently changed slayer commented, her voice neither a whisper but also not elevated to attract attention, “but I never realized it was true until this very minute. It’s rather sad, isn’t it?”  
  
As she finished, the four squabbling members of their group fell silent and turned towards the awaiting blonde. It was Cordelia who spoke first. “Braid and dye your hair black, and you could be Wednesday Adams,” the cheerleader mocked, nodding towards Buffy’s dark, gloomy ensemble. “Less than twenty-four hours as a vampire, and, already, Angel’s fashion sense has rubbed off on you.”  
  
“That’s enough,” Giles warned. Though his voice was once more steady, the brunette knew not to argue with him. Watching his slayer closely, he asked, “I take it this is not a social call? You have news for us?”  
  
“More like a plan,” the more than two centuries old vampire corrected. He and his girlfriend were positioned on the opposite side of the room, their bodies directly against the doors that led back out into the school. Even if they tried, they couldn’t have found a position further away from the humans in the room. “We think that we’ve figured out a way to beat The Judge.”  
  
Not waiting for anyone to interrupt or to ask a question, Buffy picked up right where her lover left off. “As we already know, he can’t be destroyed by any weapon known to man, but no one has faced this guy for hundreds of years. Weapons technology has come a long way since then. I highly doubt that even a demon possessed giant hunk of metal would be able to stand up against a rocket launcher.”  
  
“That sounds all well and good,” Xander pointed out sarcastically. “Just let me go into Giles’ little cage of death here, and I’ll… Oh wait,” the slacker teen stopped his own actions and whirled around to face the vampiric couple. “Normal people don’t keep rocket launchers simply lying around. Silly me.”  
  
“There’s that word again,” Cordelia mumbled under her breath. “Obsessed much? Perhaps it’s a self-directed defense mechanism, because we all know that you’re certainly not normal.”  
  
“I realize that we currently don’t have a rocket launcher,” the slayer replied sweetly. “That’s why you and the others are going to get us one. You retained all your military knowledge from Halloween, and I think it’s time for you to finally put it to good use.”  
  
For the first time since her best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend had arrived, Willow spoke up. “Buffy, you want us to break into the army’s warehouse and steal some of their weapons? Are you insane? We can’t do that… _I_ can’t do that.”  
  
“You’re just the lookout, Oz will provided transportation, because he’s the only one of us who has a big enough vehicle, Cordelia will be the bait and switch, the distraction, and Xander will get inside, find what we need, and take it.”  
  
“Just like that,” the joker of their set asked, sounding incredulous. “You expect us to jump and do your bidding?”  
  
“I think if you want to live,” Angel warned the impetuous teenager, “you’ll listen to her. _Just like that._ Buffy’s plan is our best shot at beating The Judge.”  
  
“Alright, so, obviously, I get our roles, but what exactly will the two of you be doing,” the cheerleader wanted to know. “And what about Giles?”  
  
Addressing the brunette’s question, the slayer asked her watcher, “how are your crossbow skills?”  
  
Ruefully, the British man smiled. “Not as good as yours.”  
  
“Can you work on that between now and tomorrow, because you’re an essential piece of this puzzle?”  
  
Standing up from his perch, the musician joined the other teenagers. “Why don’t you tell us exactly how this is going to go down.” Meeting his friends’ gazes, he added, “without interruptions.”  
  
“We’ve pretty much figured that Spike and his gang will be heading to the mall, and our sources told us they plan on attacking tomorrow. The Judge still isn’t up to his full strength yet. When they arrive, though, we’re – you’re going to be ready for them.” Sighing, Buffy explained, “I can’t go. No matter how much I want to and despite the fact that this is my fight, I simply don’t feel as though I’m in control enough to be around all those innocent people. If someone were to get hurt and I were to smell their blood, well… Let’s just say that I’d rather be safe than sorry.  
  
“So, Angel’s going to handle my role for me. Plus,” the fledgling vampire grinned at the man she loved, “he’s kind of looking forward to the look on Spike and Drusilla’s faces when they realize it was him who spoiled their fun. Anyway,” the blonde gathered her thoughts. “You’ll be meeting at the mall tomorrow night at sundown. Bring the rocket launcher, obviously, but you’ll also need all the stakes, crosses, and all the holy water you can get your hands on. They’re not about to go into this without a small army on their side just in case. Oh, and Giles, like I hinted at, you’ll need a crossbow.  
  
“My plan is for you guys to lull The Judge into a sense of security. If you, at first, confront him with the bow, he won’t suspect anything else, so, by the time Angel jumps in with the rocket launcher, The Judge will be caught unaware. Once he’s destroyed,” Buffy continued to explain her plan, “you’ll have to gather his pieces so we can get rid of them once and for all. As for Spike, Drusilla, and the rest of their gang, take out as many as you can.”  
  
“And what about you,” Xander asked. “What are you going to be doing during all this?”  
  
“Don’t worry,” the slayer assured him, grinning smugly. “I’ll play my part, too. You see, just in case anyone manages to get away from you guys and escape, I’m going to be waiting for them at Spike’s lair. By this time tomorrow night, Sunnydale should be a much safer place.”  
  
“Well, yes,” Giles agreed, blinking furiously as he traversed his way through the map Buffy had arranged in his mind, “it all makes perfect sense, and it seems as though it should work.”  
  
“It will,” was all Angel said in reply.  
  
“However, shouldn’t we bring Kendra in on this? Shouldn’t she be the one with the crossbow, not me? After all, she is a slayer, so she is much more proficient with the weapon than I could ever be.”  
  
“Are you serious,” the blonde fledgling challenged him. “Kendra – By-the-Book, Rules-Are-Good – the Vampire Slayer, you want her to know about this? You want her to find out that I’m now, at least physically speaking, batting for the other team?”  
  
“Oh, yes,” the watcher sighed, removing his glasses to wipe off an imaginary smudge. “I see your point.”  
  
“Alright, so it’s settled then,” Buffy concluded. “Tomorrow night, sundown at the mall – you guys and Angel, weapons and rocket launcher.”  
  
Hearing the finality in her tone, Oz nodded his head, silently agreeing along with everyone else in the room. Then he blinked, slowly, the weight of the task upon their shoulders and the late hour wrecking havoc upon his body. He was so tired, but he knew now was not the time to rest. Opening his eyes once more, he realized that the couple was already gone.  
  
“Yeah, that’s kind of creepy, that they can move like that.”  
  
“Actually,” Giles spoke up, contradicting the young guitarist, “for two such powerful vampires, they left rather slowly. Anyway,” the watcher’s words trailed off as he moved towards the locker where he kept his collection of weapons. “You all heard Buffy; we all have tasks before us. Shall we get started?”  
  
“Let’s go,” Oz motioned, corralling everyone towards the library’s doors. “You heard the man. First stop,” he said, pulling his keys from his pocket and twirling them around on his nimble fingers, “Cordelia’s house.”  
  
“What,” the cheerleader in question squeaked. “Why are we going there?”  
  
Two words was all the concise teenager needed. “Sluttier clothes.”


	9. Part Nine

**Part Nine**

The entire showdown with The Judge had been anticlimactic.  
  
Sighing out loud, Giles mentally chastised himself. Of all things, he should not be complaining. Not only had they defeated their opponent without a single human casualty or injury, but, before Spike’s band of vampires had managed to flee the mall, their own group had decimated, at least, half. Angel, for obvious reasons, had been the most successful at the undead hunt. He took out several minions and Drusilla. The only one who escaped that they were worried about was Spike. Not only was the peroxide vamp bloodthirsty, but he would, no doubt, want to seek revenge for his slain lover. The watcher only hoped that Buffy was able to corner him at his lair.  
  
Meanwhile, the status quo in Sunnydale had been returned to as normal as possible for a town that resided directly on top of the Hellmouth, but the librarian felt no joy in their easy victory. So many other things had gone wrong in the last forty-eight hours that he was incapable of seeing The Judge’s defeat as a victory. If it wasn’t for their latest enemy, he knew that it was entirely possible that his slayer would still be a human and that he and Jenny would still be enjoying their blissfully ignorant relationship without the pesky complications of betrayal.  
  
She only revealed the truth of her identity after Buffy was changed, and Buffy had only been changed after sleeping with Angel. Would the lovers have spent the night together had they not faced off against Spike, Drusilla, and The Judge earlier that evening? As far as Giles was concerned, probably not, because, after her birthday party, his slayer would have returned home. It all circled back to the demon they had just routed, but the British man much would have preferred The Judge never appearing versus achieving yet another tally in their win column.  
  
Plus, now, he found himself concerned about Angel, too. Though not particularly fond of the souled vampire, he did, for some reason, still feel responsible for him. Maybe it was because of the fact that Buffy loved the centuries old demon or, perhaps, it was simply because the other man looked so much younger than he himself was despite their actual ages, but, whatever the reason, he knew that he couldn’t allow what had transpired that evening to not be discussed. For everyone’s safety, including Angel’s, he needed to know how the vampire felt about his own actions.  
  
Clearing his throat, he glanced over at his lone passenger. The kids had all gotten a ride home – or, to be more accurate, probably to The Bronze – from Oz. “Are you… are you alright?”  
  
The only initial response he received was a slight narrowing of the Irishman’s rich, dark eyes. Confusion bled through every single wrinkle of the expression. “I wasn’t hurt.”  
  
“No, no, of course not,” the watcher immediately dismissed, refocusing his attention upon the road. The last thing they needed was to be in a car accident, especially considering the vast and varied collection of weapons he had spread across his back seat. “What I meant,” he clarified, “was if you are okay with what you had to do this evening?”  
  
The souled demon shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? I helped Buffy come up with the plan?”  
  
“Yes, the plan to handle The Judge, and, before you were actually faced with the situation in reality, you had agreed with the idea of staking Drusilla, but it has to be an entirely different matter to actually kill your own…”  
  
“Child,” Angel supplied, his tone of voice sounding neither ashamed nor pained.  
  
“Right,” the British man agreed.  
  
“I’ve always considered Dru to be Angelus’ child, not mine,” the centuries old vampire explained. “While I remember my body changing her, my soul wasn’t present at the time. I don’t… or didn’t feel any connection to her.”  
  
“I see,” Rupert murmured, and he honestly did understand… well, as much as he possibly could. While he knew that Buffy had no trouble separating the demon from the man, he himself wasn’t quite as skilled with the task. “So, then, you’re alright?”  
  
“Yes,” his passenger replied simply. “It doesn’t bother me that I killed Drusilla. In fact…”  
  
When the vampire’s words trailed off, the watcher was quick to encourage him to continue. He would have been lying to himself if he tried to say that he wasn’t interested in what more Angel had to say on the matter. “In fact what?”  
  
“A part of me is thankful that I was able to stake her this evening, aside from the obvious reasons.”  
  
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Giles apologized.  
  
“Before I… before Angelus changed Drusilla, he tormented her, made her completely insane. She’s been that way ever since,” the Irishman shared. “Maybe it’s narcissistic of me, but I’d like to think that, by killing vampire Dru tonight, I finally freed human Drusilla’s soul, that I’ve given her a little peace… wherever she might be. It’s not quite atoning for all the wrongs I did to her, but it’s a start, or, at least, I hope it is.”  
  
He was speechless. There was nothing he could possibly say that could ever ease the vampire’s guilt, but the librarian also knew that Angel didn’t want anybody to relieve his conscious. It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain of his own remorse, but the souled demon felt that the constant and never ending torture was deserved. Maybe it was, and maybe he had suffered enough for Angelus’ actions, he wasn’t sure, for that was not something he was qualified to judge. What he did know, though, was that the silence that descended upon them was laden with discomfort and awkwardness.  
  
Finally, it was his slayer’s boyfriend whose voice broke through the quiet. The self-conscious gesture surprised Giles. “I plan on meeting Buffy at my apartment, so, if you wouldn’t mind, you could just drop me off there.”  
  
“Of course,” the watcher agreed easily. “Do you wish for me to stay so that I can inform her of tonight’s activities?”  
  
“No,” Angel dismissed the offer, but the refusal wasn’t meant or taken to be rude. “I’ll tell her. You should go home, get some rest. After the last couple of days, you must be exhausted.”  
  
“No more than everyone else,” Rupert challenged. “Besides, there’s still so much research to be done concerning Buffy’s transformation.”  
  
“I’ll… we’ll take over for tonight.” Smirking, the souled vampire actually made a slight joke. “It’s not like we’ll be going to sleep anytime soon anyway.”  
  
The librarian grinned. “Very true. Now, tell me,” he asked of the Irishman. “How is she really doing?”  
  
“Better than expected.”  
  
“Yes, I do believe it is the rest of us who have taken this news the worst. If nothing else, it certainly hasn’t brought out the best in Buffy’s friends or myself, for that matter, I’m afraid.”  
  
“I saw for myself last night.” This time, it was Angel’s turn to smirk. “Things still seemed tense this evening.”  
  
“And I’m afraid they will remain that way until we find some answers,” the watcher admitted, sighing in defeat. “Xander is far too angry for his own good, especially towards you, Willow is beside herself with grief for her friend, and I’ve never seen somebody who knows how to push buttons as well as Cordelia does. However, I must admit that she has made some very valid points.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“Well, for one, she constantly reminds all of us of the fact that Buffy was never normal to begin with.”  
  
“Don’t let Buffy hear her say that,” the centuries old vampire warned, in part serious.  
  
Without commenting, the British man continued. “Taking into consideration her relationship with you, this transformation could make some aspects of her life easier. Plus, there is the fact that it has more than doubled her already impressive strength and combating skills. As Cordy has pointed out to us several times, with the two of you fighting side by side, you’ll be practically unstoppable.  
  
“And then there are also some matters that I myself have considered that Cordelia hasn’t thought of. How much do you know about the slayer line,” he questioned.  
  
“The basics,” Angel answered. “One girl is chosen to fight against all the evil in the world. When she dies, a new slayer is called.”  
  
“Yes, well, imagine how many innocent lives would be spared if there was never a need to call another slayer?”  
  
Denying what the watcher was attempting to tell him, the souled vampire responded, “I don’t understand what you’re…”  
  
“But you do,” Giles refuted. “As of right now, Buffy is pretty much invincible, and she’s immortal, too. That’s a powerful combination. If she never dies, no new slayer will ever be called in her line. Yes, there is Kendra’s to be considered. However, despite present evidence, the Watcher’s Counsel does in fact know how to adapt and change. Once they would see for themselves that Buffy cannot die and that she is _the slayer_ , they would intervene to make sure that Kendra’s line ceases to exist. Now, while I am sympathetic to these girls’ plight, it will be Buffy who will want to protect them from ever being called.”  
  
“Are you saying…?” Cutting off his own angry, hostile words, Angel regrouped. Taking a deep, unnecessary breath to brace himself, he, once again, started to talk. “You don’t want to reverse this, do you?”  
  
“I’m not sure.”  
  
“No, absolutely not,” the Irishman refuted, his voice practically shaking the car’s old windows. “We will fix this.”  
  
“But can’t you, at least, admit that there would be positives to this…”  
  
Interrupting him, his passenger exclaimed, “you have no idea what it is like to live for forever.”  
  
Conceding the point, Giles admitted, “no, I do not.”  
  
“While you don’t age, everyone around you does. You have to sit by and watch every single person who matters to you die. The strong survive but lose all hope, lose a part of themselves to the grief, but the weak… The weak go insane with the loss.”  
  
“And, typically, I would agree with you that Buffy should never have to go through that, but, Angel,” the watcher pointed out, “while she might lose many of the people she loves, the most important person to her would still be alive, would always be alive, would be right by her side through all the grief. You.”  
  
But the souled vampire was determined to make him see his point. “And then there’s also the fact that, as time slips by, you realize that you no longer fit into this world anymore. You don’t understand the language, for all the new slang has changed it so much, you don’t understand the rules, the social conventions, and you certainly don’t understand all the new changes. Life as you know slowly disappears, and it’s replaced by something that is completely alien. Eventually, it gets to the point where you no longer even understand yourself.”  
  
“But, then again,” Rupert argued, “the two of you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have each other to learn from, to adapt with. What one didn’t grasp, the other would, and you would teach each other.”  
  
When Angel went to disagree once more, Giles prevented him from doing so by saying, “there’s no point to us fighting about this. The truth of the matter is that this decision is not up to us. It’s Buffy’s to make. She’s the only one who can weigh the pros and cons of her recent transformation and determine whether or not she wants to remain a vampire or wants to return to her previous, human form.”  
  
As he parked his car outside of the basement apartment, the watcher turned to glance at his companion once more. “I just have one more thing to say before I leave. Think about this for me, Angel, while Buffy is making up her mind: is it Buffy who can’t handle seeing herself as a souled demon, or is it you? In the meantime, we’ll all continue researching so that, no matter what, we have all the options available to us.  
  
And goodnight, Angel,” he said as the vampire exited his vehicle. “You did good work this evening.”


	10. Part Ten

**Part Ten**

Only in a town like Sunnydale would the local travel agency be open twenty-four hours a day, and Jenny wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact. For convenience purposes, it was quite handy, but she knew that those late night customers who proclaimed that money was no object were not humans but, rather, demons. However, if a vampire or something else supernaturally sinister wanted to get out of Dodge that much faster, who was she to argue with their logic? After all, one less threat was always a good thing, and she, too, was currently taking advantage of the agency’s odd hours and running out of town with her tail tucked between her legs.  
  
With her seat booked on a one-way flight to Romania, the computer expert was prepared to go home, to return to her own people. Not only did she crave their comfort, their familiarity, but staying in the same town as Giles, Buffy, Willow, and all the others was just too painful for her at that point. While she wasn’t completely ruling out a return trip eventually, she just couldn’t be in Sunnydale any longer. Her mistakes, while there, were simply too glaring.  
  
Her selfish, self-preserving actions, however, still came with consequences. She was quitting her job without giving the school even a two week’s notice. So late in the year, it was questionable whether or not the board would be able to find a suitable replacement, leaving both the other staff members and, more importantly, her students in the lurch. Plus, there was her apartment. She had signed a year lease when she first arrived in town, so she was going to be responsible for the rent payments even if she wasn’t still in the country. Then there were the things she was leaving behind – her car, her furniture, the majority of all her other personal belongings. It would have been nearly impossible for her to pack up her entire life in Sunnydale and fit it into a few pieces of assorted luggage, and, frankly, she just didn’t have the energy or the ambition for such a tedious task, so she was only taking with her the necessities – no more, no less.  
  
Parking her car by the curb, Jenny exited the vehicle. Just as she had been showing less than stellar judgment concerning the security of her home, she left her beat up sedan unlocked as well. She was taking a taxi to the airport the following day. Without need herself for her car any longer, she really didn’t particularly car what happened to it.  
  
As she approached the door to her apartment, she realized that the outside light was burnt out… or purposely turned off. Sensing that she was no longer alone, the gypsy glanced nervously around the small walkway. While inviting trouble and danger into her life was one thing, actually encountering it was something completely different. But then a figure quickly emerged from the shadows, its shape taking form thanks to the light of the overhead moon only, and the teacher gasped when she realized who it was that had been lying in wait of her.  
  
“Buffy!”  
  
The teenage girl – now vampire – sauntered towards her. “Miss Kalderash,” the blonde returned in greeting. Her voice was devoid of a single emotion, and it lacked anything that could be construed as an inflection. Just like the heart of its owner, the slayer’s tone was completely dead. “Surprise.”  
  
“What are you… what are you doing here?”  
  
“Well, I’m not here to kill you if that’s what you’re worried about,” the fledgling stated flippantly. “In fact, I’m here to put your mind at rest. After all, I know only too well just how concerned you were about The Judge. Well, he’s been taken care of.”  
  
As Jenny pushed her front door in, ushering the eternal seventeen year old into her home, she said, “and I see your penchant for sarcasm wasn’t hindered by the transformation. Let’s get this – whatever it is – over with as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Come in.”  
  
“Where was your anxiety for my pain when you allowed me to be changed,” Buffy challenged, making herself comfortable in the computer expert’s apartment despite not having received an invitation to do so. Before the teacher could reply, though, the new vampire was already censuring herself. “I’m sorry. That’s really not what I came here for, to confront you, at least, not about that.”  
  
“Then what is it that you want to say to me?”  
  
The gypsy descendent watched as the blonde pulled her feet under her legs and proceeded to cross them, her shoes resting upon the beige fabric of her couch. Simply stated, the slayer asked, “where did your family get off?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“I mean, all those years ago when they first cursed Angel, they were essentially playing god.”  
  
“First of all,” Jenny stated. “It was Angelus that they cursed. The result of that curse was Angel, the man you love. Secondly, wasn’t that exactly what he himself was doing when he went around killing people? Wasn’t Angelus playing god as well?” Apparently, old habits really did die hard, for, even after realizing herself that her family’s actions had been in the wrong, she still defended them.”  
  
But Buffy just smiled indulgently. “What’s that expression that all you teachers tell your students,” she asked rhetorically. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, Miss Kalderash.”  
  
“Trapped by my own profession. Very well,” the cyber pagan conceded. “Get everything that’s bothering you off your chest. After all, this will be your one and only chance.”  
  
“Why,” the recently turned vampire asked. “Are you going to avoid me from now on?”  
  
“Well, unless you’re thinking about taking a trip to Romania, I highly doubt we’ll be seeing each other again anytime soon.”  
  
She hadn’t intended to tell the young girl that little piece of information, but, without thought, the detail just slipped right off her tongue. However, Jenny did appreciate the moment of shock that flashed across the eternal teen’s countenance. For just a moment, she felt as though she was the one in charge. However, that feeling quickly vanished, and Buffy was, once more, leading them both down a path the brunette wasn’t too sure she wanted to travel.  
  
“I guess what bothers me the most about the clause is the fact that you risked Angel’s soul so callously. I mean, you didn’t even warn him.”  
  
“And you can’t forgive my people risking the lives of thousands of innocents, right,” the computer expert surmised. “Trust me, I’m having a hard time myself wrapping my mind around that fact.”  
  
“Actually, no,” the fledgling countered, this time surprising the teacher. “I’m mad – furious – that you risked _Angel’s_ life like that. Do you know how hard it is for him to live with what Angelus did, day in and day out? For years, he barely survived. He lived off the blood of rats. The guilt, the shame, the remorse, it crippled him, nearly killed him, and, while I’m not arguing with the fact that Angelus was a monster, that he deserved such pain, he wasn’t Angel. Why does everyone always seem to forget that they’re two separate people?”  
  
“I’m not going to lie to you…”  
  
“But you do it so well,” the souled demon interrupted.  
  
Jenny did not allow the words to affect her. Though the barb certainly hit its target squarely, she couldn’t allow Buffy to break her down, at least, not yet. Instead, she continued as if the blonde had not interjected her snide remark. “In the beginning, I couldn’t separate the two of them at all. Even now, sometimes, it’s hard for me. They’re just… physically, they are the same.”  
  
“I don’t know if it’s true or not, but some people believe that we all have someone out there who looks exactly like us. So, that means that, by what you just said, there’s someone out there that could be my very twin. What if they kill people? What if they’re a coked out klepto? Just because we look alike, does that make me just like them? That’s how you and everyone else judge Angel.”  
  
“You know, I’ve never thought of it like that.”  
  
“Obviously,” the slayer remarked snidely. “Angel is good. He has a soul. Angelus doesn’t, and he’s evil. While they might look exactly alike, they are two completely separate entities. And you risked that – you risked Angel’s sanity, his very life by not telling him about the clause as soon as you found out. If anything would have happened to him…”  
  
Reversing positions, it was Jenny’s turn to interrupt the immortal teenager. “So, you’re really not mad at me for what happened to you? It’s all about Angel,” she realized. “You love him that much.”  
  
“As much that is humanly… and demonically, too, I guess, possible.” Taking a deep breath, the newly changed vampire added, “and that’s why I need to thank you.”  
  
Those were the last words that she had been expecting to hear – ever, from anyone who had been connected to Buffy’s transformation. In utter astonishment, the teacher simply stood in place, her mouth and jaw slack with disbelief. In that moment, as she waited for the blonde to explain herself, it would have been humanly impossible for her to look or to move away, to even blink.  
  
“As angry as I am that you risked Angel’s life, and, trust me, I’m pretty pissed. In fact, it’s taken all my self-control at this point not to vamp out on you, I also know that it’s because of that… that everything makes sense now.”  
  
“Well, that makes just one of us,” the computer expert admitted, “because I’m completely confused.”  
  
“Before,” Buffy enlightened, “I was an alive human in love with a dead demon. I was the slayer in love with a souled vampire. I was a high school student who, after school, went home to whittle wooden stakes, practice my self-defense skills, and wait for the sun to set so that I could patrol the cemeteries and streets for evil. I was barely passing history, but I could recite for you verbatim complete passages from dozens of past watchers’ diaries.” Summarizing her point, the slayer concluded, “my life was a complete contradiction. It didn’t make sense; _I_ didn’t make sense, but, now, I do, and that’s all because of you.”  
  
Standing up, the recently transformed demon went to stand by the gypsy’s fireplace, and, as she talked, the younger figure looked at the dozens of pictures that lined the mantel. “I was kind of stuck before. While I wanted to have that normal teenage life, it was impossible for me, and, at the same time, I wanted to be with Angel more than anything else in the whole world, but, really, in the future, that probably would have been eventually impossible. I realize that now, and I think he’s always known it, at least, in the back of his mind. Marriage, children, death, there were all these important life stages that I should have experienced eventually that he wouldn’t have been able to. How does a couple get past such differences? But, now, we don’t have to.  
  
“Now, we can fight side by side without fear of one of us ultimately becoming too old to defend ourselves. He can’t give me children, and, now, I couldn’t carry one even if I wanted to. Now, I have an excuse not to finish high school or to, at least, get my GED without having to actually go to class. Now, I can fight without worrying that, if I turn my back for just one second too long, I’ll be some vamp’s dinner. It’s not perfect,” Buffy admitted. “Not getting any older than seventeen is going to be weird, watching my family and friends eventually pass away while I remain eternal will be difficult, and I don’t even want to think about what fashion is going to be like in one hundred years, but, at least, I’m no longer torn, at least, I’m no longer trapped between two completely different lives, not really living either of them entirely. You, in your backhanded, accidental, misguided way, gave that to me, so, yeah, like I said before, thanks.”  
  
“Well, that’s it,” the fledgling stated, turning around to face the teacher one last time. “For what it’s worth,” the blonde added, taking the brunette’s right hand in her own. “Good luck.”  
  
“You, too,” Jenny murmured, still too stunned to really think or speak.  
  
“And I know this isn’t going to make you feel any better, but I am sorry about what happened between you and Giles. He’s just… really stubborn and super protective of me.”  
  
“That’s because he loves you,” the computer expert shrugged, smiling wistfully, “and I can’t fault him for that, Buffy.”  
  
With that, the two women parted, the eternally youthful one of them slipping out of the apartment without further ado. Sighing, the gypsy descendent collapsed bonelessly onto the carpeted floor below her. The fresh tears that she had managed to hold back during her entire conversation with the souled demon surfaced and quickly started to fall. While unrealistic, she felt as though the slayer’s visit and the things she had said had somehow granted her absolution. While she was still leaving town, she, at least, would be able to do so without such a heavy heart, and, if anyone would understand her, if anyone would be able to sympathize and love her despite her flaws, it would be her own family.  
  
“I hope that your plane ticket is refundable,” a voice threatened from the shadows, emerging before she could, once more, gather herself and her startled form.  
  
Breathing heavily from fright, Jenny regarded the hulking, slightly stooped man before her. “Uncle?”  
  
“After everything that you have done, Janna,” he said, “your family will not welcome you back home. In fact, you are never to return to us.”  
  
“What I did,” the young woman repeated, questioned, trembled. “I don’t… what do you mean?”  
  
Simply, her elder stated, “you failed.”  
  
“We all fail sometimes,” the computer expert wailed, defending herself. “To error is to be human. Even you, Uncle, have made mistakes in the past.”  
  
“But none of this magnitude,” the older man exploded, advancing upon her before she could, once more, take to her feet. “You have shamed your people, disappointed us. We sent you here to watch over the souled vampire, to make sure that Angelus was never to experience true happiness, and what do you do? Why, you manage to secure him a lifelong mate.”  
  
“No,” she argued, finding her voice as well as her feet. Even with standing, the cyber pagan had to tilt her head back to confront her livid family member. “That would be you and the rest of the family. I was not the one who cursed Angelus; I was not the one who put in a clause, and I was not the one who sent me here unprepared for all the possibilities.”  
  
“Enough,” the Kalderash leader bellowed, making her shrink back in fear. “I do not want to hear any more of your excuses, Janna. From this point on, you are dead to your people.”  
  
“But Uncle…”  
  
“You are nothing.”  
  
Just as abruptly as he had confronted her, Jenny’s relative left, and she was, once more, by herself… and she always would be. Never before had she ever felt so alone and afraid.


	11. Part Eleven

**Part Eleven**

Even to her overly sensitive, supernaturally alert ears, Buffy could now move silently. Considering how strong she was thanks to the combined essences of the vampire and the slayer inside of her, she was curious if any creature – either human or otherworldly – would be able to detect her simply by using their sense of sound. She was pretty sure such a task would be nearly impossible. Rather, both friends and enemies alike would have to use their other senses, mainly sight and smell, to locate her, and, until more information about her recent transformation was available to the general demonic population, the blonde was also positive that her scent would only prove confusing to her enemies. It was just one more advantage the clause had provided her with.  
  
Mutely, she turned the key, unlocking Angel’s front and only door. As she stepped through the shadowy entrance, the lights in the apartment dimmed for their vampiric awareness, Buffy realized that she could also consider the small flat her own home now, too, for there was no way she would be going back to live with her mother. Even if she wanted to, such an idea would have been impossible. Besides, so many things had changed since the night of her birthday, a mere 48 hours prior, that the last thing she could have done was leave the man she loved.  
  
Closing the door behind her, the slayer glanced up and realized that she wasn’t alone. She had thought that she would beat Angel back that evening, or, maybe, she had just hoped that she would. Her reasons for wanting a few solitary moments before the souled vampire returned home had nothing to do with a desire to keep or hind anything from him. Rather, she had just wanted a few moments to gather herself, to collect her thoughts, to re-center her overwhelming emotions. It took all of her self control to reign herself in, and, while she knew such censoring wasn’t required or even preferred by Angel, she needed to do it for her own peace of mind.  
  
But he didn’t pressure her to talk as she fully entered the room. In fact, he kept his own gaze downcast, attempting to appear completely absorbed by the open book in his left hand. He allowed her the privacy of mind to both let her guard down and balance her thoughts and emotions at the same time. She moved throughout the small space, kicking off her shoes, tossing aside her various weapons, and hanging up her long coat without her vampire lover saying even a single word, and the fact that he had given her such space to herself made her realize it was the very last thing she actually wanted.  
  
Curling up beside the souled demon on the chair he occupied, the eternal seventeen year old snuggled into her boyfriend’s side, lifting the arm he was using to hold his novel and placing it around her slight form. Her head dropped to his shoulder, the place where she always felt the most comfortable and secure, and she practically purred in contentment. Angel’s response was to just hold her a little tighter. Still, his actions weren’t compelling, just reassuring.  
  
“Not that I’m complaining or anything,” the blonde prefaced her question, “but why didn’t you ask me about where I was so long?”  
  
The Irishman shrugged, momentarily lifting her face with the movement. “I trust you,” he stated simply. “If you needed to tell me something, you would… whenever you were ready to.”  
  
And she did need to tell him. Hell, she wanted to as well, but, first, she was going to start with easiest topic to discuss. After all, simple facts were far more straightforward than her feelings on becoming part demon. “No one or maybe I should say nothing showed back up at the warehouse. I waited, but…”  
  
“I killed Drusilla.”  
  
“Oh,” Buffy breathed out, pleasantly surprised by the shared information, but that was until she recalled seconds later just who exactly the raven haired vampire had been to her boyfriend or, rather, to her boyfriend’s demon. “Are you okay with that?”  
  
Smirking slightly, Angel revealed, “Giles asked me the same thing.”  
  
Teasingly, she grinned at him. “It sounds like someone has finally reached the inner sanctum.” It amazed the fledgling that, during such an important, serious conversation, she and the man she loved could still manage to smile and laugh. It felt justified, and it felt good… no matter how new the sensation was.  
  
“I told him that it felt right to, at least, partially fix Angelus’ mistakes. Now, hopefully, whatever is left of Dru’s soul will be able to finally find some peace,” he confided in her.  
  
Just staring at the man in whose lap she sat, the slayer was, once again, reminded of just how much and why she loved him. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly. The embrace wasn’t meant to arouse or entice but, instead, to show compassion, trust, forgiveness, and commitment. It would be just one whisper of their lips together out of thousands, maybe more, and, just like all the others that had yet to occur, it was meant to heal the wounds of the past, sooth the anxiety of the present, and accept whatever the future had to hold.  
  
Settling back into her previous position, Buffy queried, “what about the others?”  
  
“We got half if not more of their minions.”  
  
“And Spike,” she wanted to know.  
  
The centuries old vampire rolled his deep, dark eyes. “At the first sign of real trouble, he took off. Leave it to Spike to protect his own worthless ass, while he hangs everyone else out to dry.”  
  
Despite her best attempts to appear completely serious, the ageless teenager’s lips quirked. “Well, you had to know that someone who was so particular about their hair would be a little self-involved.”  
  
“Do you think he might have felt your presence at the warehouse and took off before you could detect him?”  
  
“No, no way,” the slayer responded. “I know that my senses are stronger than his, that I’m stronger than he is now. I would have smelled him long before he would have even started to attempt looking for me. No, he must have gone somewhere else.”  
  
“We can go out and start looking if you want,” her boyfriend offered, already starting to adjust himself so that they could both stand up, but Buffy held fast, refusing to allow him purchase to really move.  
  
“Actually, there’s something else I need to talk to you about… but you already knew that, didn’t you?”  
  
“I could tell that there was something on your mind,” the souled demon revealed. “But, honestly, I’m not sure that I want to hear what you have to say. After talking to Giles earlier…”  
  
Screwing up her petite, expressive face, the blonde asked, “what does he have to do with me going to see Miss Calendar?”  
  
Although he verbally didn’t express his shock, she could tell by the widening of her boyfriend’s eyes and the fact that his eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline that her question had startled the Irishman. “You what?”  
  
Standing, the slayer began to pace, nervously toying with her fingers as she watched her feet move. “What I’m about to tell you probably isn’t going to make much sense at first, but would you just let me tell you everything before you react?” Glancing up at the man she loved, she stressed, “would you please do that for me?”  
  
Angel just nodded his acquiesce once.  
  
Turning to face the centuries old vampire, the fledgling simply stated, “I went there to thank her.”  
  
“For what,” he demanded, already forgetting his promise due to the astonishing nature of her opening declaration. “After what she did to you…”  
  
Buffy held up a single hand, the calm gesture meant to silence her boyfriend. It worked. “Oh, I’m angry with her… or I was, but I can’t regret the consequences of her actions.” Kneeling down before the chair in which she herself had just been sitting on top of Angel’s lap in, the slayer took his hands in hers, looked deeply into his eyes, and continued to explain herself. “You know how hard everything before was for me – trying to be a normal girl, a normal daughter, a normal student and friend, slaying, and loving you all at the same time. It was all pretty much impossible when put together. I did my best, but I was struggling pretty badly with trying to juggle it all. Now, I don’t have to.”  
  
Pausing long enough to allow her words to sink in, Buffy waited several seconds before she pressed on. “I don’t like the fact that the choice was taken out of my hands. My entire future was decided for me, but, at this point, I’m kind of used to high handed supernatural forces stepping in and turning my entire world upside down, only, this time, it was easier, and it made more sense to me than when I became the slayer.”  
  
Before the man she loved could protest, the eternal seventeen year old admitted, “and I know that it’s not going to be a walk in the park all the time. It’s going to be hard for me to sit back and watch my parents and my friends die while I never age, but I’ll have you for forever, and I know that you’re enough to get me through that kind of pain. I love my mom, and I love Giles, and Willow, and Xander, but you’re the only person I need – you and your love. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but it’s the truth, and I don’t regret it. I couldn’t take it back even if I wanted to. It wasn’t my decision to become a vampire, but it is my decision to remain one, and that’s exactly what I intend upon doing. It’s the best possible option for everyone.”  
  
“I’m only concerned about what is best for you,” he confessed.  
  
Crawling back up onto his lap, the fledgling sat so that she was straddling her boyfriend’s legs. Leaning forward so that their foreheads and noses were touching, she locked their gazes together before whispering, “this is what is best for me; you are what is best for me.”  
  
“Alright then,” Angel breathed out despite the fact that he didn’t really need the intake of air. She knew that was the end of their discussion, and the fact that he could simply accept her choice so easily without arguing with her despite actually wanting to protest made Buffy love him even more. “We should probably get in touch with Giles, tell him about what you decided.”  
  
“And we will,” she promised, “but not tonight. Let him sleep. He needs it. Besides, there’s something else I think we should do.” Bestowing Angel with her most dazzling, most convincing smile that she possessed, the slayer tentatively said, “I was actually wondering if you would do a little favor for me?”  
  
Feigning wariness, the souled vampire asked, “and what exactly would that favor be?”  
  
“I need to go and see my mom,” Buffy responded. “Telling her that I’m staying at Willow’s isn’t going to work much longer. She’s going to start getting suspicious… and that’s if she doesn’t try to ground me first.”  
  
“Yeah,” her boyfriend teased, grinning crookedly, “like that’s ever stopped you in the past.”  
  
But she just playfully ignored him. “Obviously, I won’t be able to tell her the truth. After all, I can’t see ‘hey, mom, I slept with Angel and, afterwards, turned into a souled vamp because of this happiness clause that we weren’t aware of being attached to his curse, so I’m moving out’ actually working.”  
  
“So, what do you want to tell her instead?”  
  
“Well, that’s where you and this little favor come into play,” the blonde admitted sheepishly. When the man she loved just watched her carefully, waiting for her to expand upon her announcement, she confessed, “I want to tell my mom that we’re running away to get married. She’ll be mad… like probably even more pissed than when I burnt down the gym at my old school in LA, but, really, it’s the only option I think we have. I still want to be able to see her, and I want her to know that you’re in my life, because, eventually, when she sees our relationship working, she’ll get over her disappointment and blinding rage.”  
  
“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” Angel contended.  
  
“Oh, you’ve never seen my mom mad before.” With wide, innocent eyes, the fledgling insisted, “she’s scarier than both The Judge and The Master combined.”  
  
Although her boyfriend laughed, he also sobered quickly. Taking the hand on which she wore her birthday present into both of his, the souled demon reverently touched the Claddagh ring, caressing it, before removing it and then slipping it onto the eternal teen’s left ring finger, heart facing in. “When I explained to you the meaning behind our rings, I left something pretty significant out. Traditionally, when worn on the right hand, it’s a promise to be together, a pledge to be married, but a couple switches the rings to their left hands once they’re actually joined together.”  
  
“How… I don’t… what… You…?”  
  
The Irishman smiled at her baffled, incoherent ramblings. “I want to marry you, Buffy Summers. While we might not be able to legally get married, seeing as how I am officially dead, in my heart, we’re already joined together… for forever.” Leaning down, he kissed the ring upon her finger just as she had done to him two nights before. “With my two hands, I give you my heart and crown it with my love.”  
  
Repeating the same old, timeworn, traditional pledge, the slayer promised, “with my two hands, I give you my heart and crown it with my love,” while transferring her lover’s ring to his left hand as well.  
  
“So, now,” Angel said, “when we go to see your mom, we won’t be lying about what’s really important. We might not have run off to elope, but we are married… at least, in our hearts.”  
  
“And that’s all that matters,” the blonde stated, leaning in to seal their simple yet beautiful union with a lasting kiss. Pulling away after several long moments, the new vampire jumped up and pulled the souled demon with her. “Alright, now let’s get this show on the road. The sooner we tell my mom, the sooner we can get back here and…”  
  
“And…?”  
  
If she still would have been human, the blonde would have blushed. Fidgeting, she avoided the Irishman’s gaze. “You know…”  
  
“I do know,” he agreed with her, still chuckling. “However, before we go, maybe you should feed?”  
  
“Oh, about that,” Buffy admitted sheepishly. “I might have already kind of finished off all the blood you got me yesterday.”  
  
“That’s okay,” he reassured her. “We’ll pick some more up while we’re out. For now, though, you can just feed from me.”  
  
The slayer’s gaze opened wide with amazement. “Really, but doesn’t that… hurt?”  
  
“Oh, no,” the centuries old vampire soothed her worries, “not at all. Far from it, actually.” At her confused expression, he clarified, “when I pulled away from you yesterday, it wasn’t because I was in pain, at least, not physically. I was shocked, scared for you, and scared that I had done something to hurt you. Feeding from each other, for vampires, is like…” Cutting his statement short, Angel, instead, pulled the slayer closer to him, enfolding her in his arms. She immediately tilted her head back to look up at him properly, revealing her neck to him. He did the same, angling his jaw upward, and invited her to bite him. “It’ll be easier if I just show you. After you bite into me, I’ll bite into you, and you’ll feel for yourself what I mean.”  
  
And that’s exactly what they did. As Buffy felt her own blood flowing into the man she loved, she could taste his own life source gush into her mouth and then spread outward throughout her entire form. It warmed her otherwise chilled skin, electrified every single nerve ending in her body, and granted her more pleasure than she had ever experienced before in her entire life. It was the closest she had ever felt to Angel. At the same time, though, she could feel their strength combining. With every drop of blood that they shared with each other, their power grew, contracted, and expanded, and she knew then and there that it would only continue to do so for as long as they continued to feed from each other.  
  
They truly were an island onto themselves, existing separately from the rest of the world, not needing anything or anyone but each other. It was the truest and deepest of all connections, of all commitments, and it was theirs for eternity. There was no way she could ever turn her back on such a gift, and she never would.

} * {

He had possessed every intention of following Angel’s advice and going home to sleep. After all, he was exhausted, and he no longer felt as though Buffy’s recent transformation required his immediate, undivided attention. His slayer was, if not grateful, then, at least, accepting of her current vampiric state, and he knew that she would want him to take care of himself – to eat, and rest, and take a few hours to simply unwind. After all, the fledgling was very much about enjoying the simple pleasures of life.  
  
So, with those thoughts in his mind, Giles had set off for home after leaving Angel outside of his apartment. He had driven the short route, locked his car for the night, and gone inside of his comfortable, bachelor flat. Once inside, he had fixed himself a cup of tea, sorted through the mail, and showered, only to climb into bed and suddenly find himself perfectly awake and incapable of relaxing. He had simply been too wired still to fall asleep.  
  
Knowing research might be the very thing to settle his high-strung mind, the watcher had climbed back out of bed, redressed himself, and then went back outside only to climb, once more, into his old sedan. If he was going to do research, he was going to make sure that his time was spent well, and, in order to do that, he needed to return for what he hoped would be the very last time to Jenny Calendar’s… or Jenny Kalderash’s… or Janna Kalderash’s, whatever her real name was, for the last time. She had the books he needed, so he would get them and then never see his ex-girlfriend again… well, except for at work… unfortunately.  
  
Just like the previous time, he found the teacher’s car outside and her front door unlocked. After calling out for her and knocking to no avail, he allowed himself in once again, hoping the call would be a short one. The apartment was dark, and it felt empty, deserted, despite the fact that the librarian knew that the computer expert had to be home. It was too late and too dangerous to be out on foot… even for someone who, apparently, had a penchant for early morning walks.  
  
Rounding the slight corner into the living room, the British man came to a complete, harsh stop. Jenny was certainly there – she was right in front of him, but she was also dead.  
  
Hung.  
  
She had committed suicide.  
  
Quickly glancing around the small space, he didn’t find a note or anything else that would help him piece together why the gypsy descendent had taken her own life. While their breakup and the revelation of her betrayals certainly weren’t pleasant topics, he knew that they were not enough to make her so desperate that she would be able to kick a chair away while hanging by her neck from her living room light fixture and kill herself. Something else had to have happened, but what that thing was, he couldn’t be sure. The truth of the matter was that, despite their former association and relationship, he didn’t know the teacher well enough to comprehend her latest and last action.  
  
What he did know, though, was that he couldn’t leave her various tomes on the supernatural there for the authorities to find and confiscate, and he certainly couldn’t leave her laptop behind for someone else to scan and copy. Both contained too much valuable, potentially dangerous information if ever put into the wrong hands. So, gathering the suspicious belongings, the watcher dashed out to his car, stashing the seized sources safely. Returning to the apartment, he made an anonymous phone call to the authorities, giving them enough information to find the body but not enough to implicate himself. While perhaps selfish, he just simply couldn’t risk involvement in the suicide case, not with everything that had recently occurred between himself and the computer expert.  
  
Taking out his handkerchief, the librarian rapidly attempted to remove all his fingerprints from the premises, retracing his steps until he backed out the door and then scrambled into his car. Hopefully, it was too late for any of the neighbors to have seen him. Hopefully, he had covered his tracks well enough to avoid suspicion or future involvement. Hopefully, the kids, especially Willow, wouldn’t take the loss of the cyber pagan’s life too badly. Hopefully, someday he’d be able to figure out why the teacher had taken such a drastic action.  
  
And, hopefully, someday, he’d be able to forgive himself for being so harsh with a woman he, at least, had cared about. No matter what, Jenny had been a person, deserving of basic human compassion and sympathy. While Rupert was sure that he had not been the one to drive her to suicide, he did wonder if, perhaps, she would have turned to him for help if he had not been so cruel towards her, and, for that, he would always be sorry.


	12. Part Twelve

**Part Twelve**

She wasn’t trying to startle Buffy. Honestly, she wasn’t! In fact, it was kind of a preposterous idea – her, Willow Rosenburg, a mere human, teenage girl, creeping up upon and then scaring the slayer… who just so happened to now be a very potent vampire as well. Nevertheless, though, that’s exactly what was happening, and she wasn’t really too sure how she should proceed. Frightening her friend… or, at least, she hoped that the blonde was still her friend, was decidedly a very bad idea. Who knew what Buffy would do – run away, vamp out? Surely, she wouldn’t… attack her, would she?  
  
No, the redhead reassured herself silently, nodding her pale face in a determined manner. The slayer wouldn’t hurt her. No matter what, she had to believe that, because, if she didn’t, what did that mean for their future – all of their futures? What would it mean for her relationship with her best friend, and what would it say about her as a person, that she could simply forget a year’s time worth of loyalty on Buffy’s behalf and turn against the blonde? If she wanted to be able to trust the fledgling, then she had to believe that her friend still trusted her. Besides, according to Giles, Buffy still very much had her soul, and souls were good. Vampires with souls were good. Angel was proof enough of that, and the bottom line was that the figure before her wasn’t just some monster, some faceless, nameless demon; it was her best friend.  
  
Taking a deep, reassuring breath, the intelligent teen took several more steps forward, but, still, Buffy didn’t seem to sense her presence there in the graveyard. Perhaps, that was because most humans stayed as far away from the many burial grounds that filled Sunnydale during the nighttime hours. Willow herself had been fearful of them once upon a time, but, now, after months and months of fighting all the big bads… or, well, to be more precise, watching the slayer fight the big bads, she no longer lived her life in fear. She felt comfortable in the graveyards. After all, if something wanted to hurt her, there was no place where she could hide. Nope, her new motto was to stand up to all things scary, to look them square in the eye and confront her own fears. She just made sure that she did so with several stakes in her pockets, a few crosses on her form, and, at least, one bottle of holy water clutched tightly in her hand. While she might have recently found her bravery, she wasn’t stupid.  
  
It had already been a long day, and she should have been in bed, but the redhead wasn’t tired. In such a short time, the woman that occupied the fresh grave she was now standing before had meant so many different things to her. A week ago, she had been Willow’s mentor, a friend. Then, when Miss Calendar had betrayed them all by withholding the truth about Angel’s curse, she had suddenly become the enemy. They could no longer trust her, and she couldn’t turn to the computer expert for advice or just a sympathetic smile. And, now, just days later, her favorite teacher was dead. She had killed herself.  
  
Finally, she took the last steps she needed to advance completely to the unmarked grave and stopped to stand shoulder to shoulder with her best friend. Although the tombstone wasn’t in place yet, she knew what it would say, for she had been the one to order it. Giles had paid for the marker after learning that his ex’s family had no intentions of honoring their dead relative. Together, they had decided to keep the inscription simple, just computer expert’s name and the dates of her birth and death. And the stone would, in fact, say Jenny Calendar. Despite the fact that the cyber wiccan was actually Janna Kalderash, to them, the people who would actually mourn her, she would always be Jenny Calendar, and that’s how they would remember her in memoriam.  
  
Although the vampire beside her was now aware of her presence, the shy teen realized that her friend was both nervous and wary, an odd combination of vibes for Willow to experience coming from Buffy. She was the anxious one, the one who was socially awkward, not the slayer, but it appeared as though more had changed with the other teenager’s transformation besides just her diet. Once Buffy started fidgeting, playing with the rings she wore on her fingers, particularly a new one that Willow had never seen before on her left, ring finger, she knew that she was going to have to be the one to put both of them at ease.  
  
“It’s weird, you know, burying someone from our group.”  
  
Although the movement was barely perceptible – whether because it happened so fast or was so slight, she wasn’t sure, but the fledgling tilted her face faintly closer to the redhead. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, it’s just… after the very beginning, when we lost Jesse…” Remembering her old friend, it felt as if an entire lifetime had passed. Continuing on with her thoughts, Willow said, “none of us have been seriously injured… except, you know, when you died briefly. I just, I guess I got used to believing we would all be okay no matter what. It was stupid, I know,” she admitted, rolling her eyes at her own immaturity, “and naïve, but I just…”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with hoping for the best,” Buffy interrupted her. Still not meeting her gaze, the blonde added, “and there’s nothing wrong with having faith either, but Miss Calendar didn’t die because we lost a battle or because we got careless.”  
  
“No,” the bright teenager agreed. “She died because we stopped caring.”  
  
“But did you really,” the slayer countered, finally twisting around to look at her best friend. Surprising Willow, the eternal seventeen year old took both of her hands in her own and pulled them both down so that they were sitting in front of the fresh gravesite. “If you had really stopped caring, you wouldn’t be here right now.”  
  
Protesting weakly, she claimed, “but maybe I’m here for you. Maybe I was looking for you.”  
  
“But you weren’t,” the vampire refuted, not sounding either smug in her confidence or offended by the knowledge. “You’re here to mourn the loss of someone you thought a lot of. You might have been mad at Miss Calendar, but you never hated her, and you never would have turned her away if she would have come to you for help. While you might not realize that yet, I know it to be a fact.”  
  
What she was about to do was probably risky, but, in that moment, the redhead refused to censor herself with her closest girlfriend. Bumping shoulders with Buffy, she teased, “who knew that all it would take for you to pass everyone up in the wisdom department was adding a little demon to your slayer mix.”  
  
“It’s totally wiggy right,” the fledgling asked, sounding slightly amused. “And what’s even weirder is the fact that, now, Angel’s the one who freaks out, and I have to calm him down.”  
  
Smirking, Willow teased, “which I’m sure you don’t mind doing, especially if you use distraction like Oz does for me.”  
  
“Is there any other way?”  
  
The two girls giggled, and, for a moment, she was able to forget the fact that her friend wasn’t human any longer and that the secret that had led to the vampire’s transformation had also led to her mentor committing suicide. But the recent memories quickly caught up to Willow, and she sobered immediately. “I’m, uh, really sorry, Buffy.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
Astonished that the blonde could even ask, she blurted out, “for how I acted when I first found out about, well, you know…” Gesturing towards the other teen’s face, she stumbled over her words, “about you, and the fangs, and going all ‘grr’ on us.”  
  
“Honestly,” the slayer admitted, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly. “I really don’t remember you even being there that night.”  
  
“What?” Disbelievingly, the redhead asked, “is that some new vamp defense mechanism – temporary amnesia, selective memory? How could you not remember what we did to you, what Xander said? We were awful friends that night, Buffy.”  
  
“Oh, trust me, I remember everything that Xander had to say,” her companion stated, a note of fury entering her previously calm and stable voice. “In fact, I’ll probably never forget what he said about Angel.”  
  
“What about forgive,” Willow wanted to know. “Will you be able to forgive him? You know, it’s well known that Xander has a tendency to speak first and ask questions later, to…”  
  
“To put his big, fat foot in his mouth,” the blonde finished for her. “Well, this time, he might just have to choke on it.” Before the brilliant teen could protest, to stick up for her childhood friend, the vampire continued. “If he’s always going to treat Angel like the enemy, how can I trust him? How can I be friends with a boy who hates the man I love?”  
  
“Those are very good questions, but I’m afraid I don’t have the answers to them.”  
  
“I didn’t think you would, Will, and I certainly didn’t expect you to.”  
  
“Nevertheless, though, you’re my friend, and Xander’s my friend,” the redhead protested despite the fact that she could sense Buffy’s discomfort with their current topic of conversation, “and I want the two of you to be friends, too.”  
  
“Can we just… talk about something else, please?” Remembering what had prompted them to discuss the clown of their group in the first place, the slayer queried, “so, what was so bad about how you reacted that night?”  
  
“Oh, I was majorly freaked out, and scared… both for and of you, and I felt sorry for you, too.”  
  
“Wow,” Buffy breathed out. “That’s not a very pleasant combination. What changed?”  
  
“Well, I realized that, at least, in part, my reaction was kind of selfish. I was sad for you because of all the things you were going to miss out on, but then it was actually Cordelia who made me realize that those things weren’t necessarily things you wanted for yourself. They were things that I wanted for me, so I automatically thought that you would want them, too.” Sighing, the redhead pressed on. “I’m still sad about some things, and I’m still worried for you, but you seem… at peace, and, if you’re happy, then I’ll eventually be happy for you, too.”  
  
“Thanks,” the blonde said quietly, reaching over to hug her friend. “That means a lot to me. You’re my best friend, Wills, and that’s not going to change just because I’m… a little different than I was before.”  
  
“I know that,” she promised. “You’re Buffy, and you’ll… always be Buffy, like for real and for forever.” Unable to contain her worries, Willow blurted out, “but that’s just it. You’ll always be… like this,” she gestured towards her pretty, blonde friend, “and, eventually, if I live that long…”  
  
“Don’t say that! You know better than to jinx yourself. We do live on the Hellmouth, remember?”  
  
Ignoring the slayers warnings, the intelligent teen continued, “but, eventually, I’m going to be old, and wrinkly, and senile, and I’ll smell weird. You’re not going to want to be friends with me then.”  
  
“Who says,” the fledgling objected. “I like old people, and, no matter what, you’ll never act as old as Giles.”  
  
Giggling, she had to admit that her friend had a point. “He is rather stuffy, isn’t he?”  
  
“He is, and I love him anyway.”  
  
Silence descended upon the two of them, but it wasn’t unpleasant, more uncertain. “So, what now?”  
  
“Well, Angel and I had planned on going patrolling later, but, if you need me…”  
  
“No,” Willow reassured her. “That’s not what I meant. What’s going to happen to all of us now? I mean, you’re still you, but, at the same time, you’re not. Everything’s just so different… and confusing.”  
  
“You know, I don’t know what will happen. Before, we had all those prophecies, but no one could have ever predicted that I would become part of what I hunt. There’s no precedent for this. No one knows how strong I’ll become or how the other vamps and demons will react to me now. My guess, they’ll hate me and Angel even more, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I’m just trying to adjust, but I do know that I’m thankful. This is a good thing,” Buffy comforted her. “I know it with everything I am and everything I’m going to become. As for my destiny, well… it’s mine now, not the council’s, and I have to tell you that feels really, really good, Willow. Things are about to change and change drastically around here.”  
  
“I hope you know that I’ll help you as much as I can.”  
  
“Thanks,” Buffy grinned. “I appreciate that, and I’m going to need you. I always will.”  
  
Smirking, the redhead confided, “and I think you know that we all need you, too… and for more than just protection.”  
  
“Uh oh,” the blonde realized, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong? Did you and Oz have a fight or something?”  
  
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just…”  
  
“It’s just what?”  
  
“Well, he’s has been acting kind of strange lately. He’s been really quiet and withdrawn,” she divulged.  
  
“Uh… this is Oz we’re talking about here, Wills. He’s always quiet and withdrawn.”  
  
“Not around me,” the bright teenager protested. “And it’s more than usual.”  
  
“Maybe he’s just thrown by everything that’s happened. You know, it’s not every day that your girlfriend’s best friend becomes a souled demon.”  
  
“I know, and you’re probably right, but… I don’t know. It just, it feels like something else, something more.”  
  
“Talk to him,” Buffy told her. “If something’s wrong and your relationship is going to work, then he’ll talk to you.”  
  
“And if he doesn’t?” The blonde shrugged, not voicing the response that both she and Willow already understood. “So,” sighing, Willow stood, brushing the loose dirt off of her legs and backside. “Will I see you tomorrow?”  
  
“Yeah,” the slayer remarked, joining her. “We’ll catch up sometime tomorrow night, and you can tell me about how your talk with Oz went.”  
  
“Will do.” Hugging her best friend, the redhead said, “thanks… for everything.”  
  
“Come on,” Buffy nodded towards the cemetery’s exit. “I’ll walk you home.”  
  
“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that!”  
  
“Hello, this is the Hellmouth, and you’re just a human, one of the bravest I know but still just a human.”  
  
Smiling, she obliged, silently thankful for the protective gesture. As the two of them ambled off, arms entwined together like schoolchildren, Willow realized something. While things were still all messed up – Miss Calendar was still dead and always would be, Xander was still mad at everyone but especially Buffy and Angel, and Oz was definitely acting weird, at least she still had her best friend. For some reason, despite everything else, she knew in that moment that she would be alright. Things weren’t perfect, and they never would be, but perfection was overrated.  
  
Knowing Cordelia had taught her that much.


	13. Part Thirteen

**Part Thirteen**

“Willy, how about another round for me and all my mates?”  
  
As the short, corrupt bartender came into his line of sight, Spike smiled genuinely. While the bastard was a cheat, and a liar, and he watered down his drinks, he identified with him. They were one in the same… except he was better looking and a lot more vicious, but a demon couldn’t be too picky when it came to picking his favorite pub in good ol’ Sunnyhell. After all, the damn slayer and her groupies barred him and any of his other fellow monsters from entering the other, more appetizing establishments, so Willy’s it was.  
  
“Uh, Spike,” the brunette across from him laughed. He sounded utterly uncomfortable and nervous. Man, it was good to be him! “There’s no one else here.”  
  
“What,” the peroxide blonde yelled, angrily swiveling around to face the empty bar. The sudden movement made his head spin, and he almost fell off of his stool. “Willy,” he complained, slowly turning back around to rest against the bar top. “You really need to fix this place up. A vampire could get hurt with how crooked these floors are.”  
  
“Of course,” the dive’s owner quickly agreed. “Anything for you, Spike. You know that. However, with the way that business has been going the last few days…  
  
“Bloody slayer and her bloody poof of a boyfriend,” he grumbled, his brow furrowing in irritation and resentment. “They killed my Dru.”  
  
“You told me, buddy,” Willy sympathized, shaking his head in disappointment. “She was quite the looker, too.”  
  
“Hey, that’s my girl you’re panting after,” William the Bloody shouted, reaching out and grabbing hold of the bartender’s shirtfront. “Show a little respect, mate.”  
  
“Of course, of course, I meant no harm. Honest, I swear.”  
  
The greasy human was sweating bullets. He obviously made him edgy. And, by god, the man ought to be when in his company. Not only was he feared by humans, but he was also feared by demons, too. No one messed with him and got away with it, and no one was more deserving of such a reputation. At least, that’s how things had once been. Now, everything was a mess. Drusilla was gone – dust, struck down by her interfering, no-bad sire. Damn that Angel! And to think that he, Spike, had once looked up to the bloody poof when he was still Angelus? Well, that had certainly been a mistake.  
  
Shaking away his less than pleasant thoughts, the vampire glared at the quivering slime ball before him. “I thought I told you to get me another drink?”  
  
“Yes, yes you did, and I’ll get on that right away,” Willy promised.  
  
“A little less talking and a lot more pouring, and you and me, we’ll get along much, much better,” he promised, punctuating the remark by slapping the bartender’s left cheek twice to emphasize his words. The action caused the bastard to spill some liquor on top of the bar. Well, he sure as hell wasn’t paying for that. In fact, he had half a mind not to pay his tab at all, because what was one, mere human going to do about it. He was William the Fucking Bloody, and not even Buffy and her Loyal Bunnies would lift a finger to prevent the barkeep’s death.  
  
Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do! He’d drink his fill of Willy’s booze, and then he’d drink his fill of Willy. Once the prick was dead, he’d take over the bar. He’d run the joint, and he’d run it far better than its previous owner ever had. He’d set up a back room for gambling… and various other activities, and Saturday night would be Russian roulette night. He damn well enjoyed that game quite a bit.  
  
But, if he was in charge, then he would have to worry about the bar’s upkeep. He’d have to stock the booze, not just drink it. He’d have to cater to his clientele, not kill them. And he’d technically be employed. What an ugly, disgraceful thought! He didn’t work; he had minions who did his work for him. With all of that in mind, maybe owning Willy’s wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe what he should do instead was just force the imbecile to serve him without charge and to hand over half his profits as a protection fee, but the only person Spike would protect when at the establishment would be himself.  
  
Bringing him back from his thoughts, he heard the short brunette timidly ask, “so, what do you think of all this news about Buffy becoming part vamp… but like Angel, you know, with a soul?”  
  
“I think it’s pretty bloody inconvenient, that’s what I think,” Spike answered. Despite the fact that he didn’t particularly like the bartender, there was no one else around to talk to, and the gossip about the slayer had been weighing pretty heavily upon his mind since that night at the mall. “One vampire with a conscious was bad enough. That poof was giving my kind quite the appalling reputation, but, now, supposedly, there’s two of them. First Dru dies, and now this? I’m fucking beside myself, Willy, and, to make matters worse, she’s the damn slayer, too.”  
  
“Do you… do you have any idea how this happened?”  
  
“If I knew, don’t you think I would have done something to prevent it?”  
  
Screwing up his face, the slippery human made it quite obvious that he didn’t believe Spike would have been capable of such a thing. Two days ago, he would have killed the son of a bitch for showing him such disrespect, but now… Now, he just didn’t care that much. Plus, he was quite drunk, and, if it was one thing he hated doing, it was ruining a good buzz.  
  
“Well, all I know is that it’s done terrible things for my business. All the demons have fled town to protect their hide.”  
  
“Cowards,” the blonde vampire complained. “They’re all fucking cowards, the whole lot of them.”  
  
“So, does that mean that you’re going to stay here in Sunnydale,” Willy wanted to know.  
  
“You know, mate, I haven’t really thought about my next move yet, but what I do know is that William the Bloody does not run off scared with his tail tucked between his legs. He stands and fights.” Lowering his voice, he added quietly, “I’m just not sure which side I’ll be fighting on now.”  
  
“What’s that,” the pesky bartender apparently heard his whispered comment. “You’re thinking of joining up with the slayer and her friends?”  
  
“Well, we’ll sure as hell never be the best of buds, but a demon has to consider his hide, Willy,” Spike explained, “and, right now, if I want to stay alive, I’m going to have to reevaluate my stance on things.” Draining the tumbler of whisky before him, he nodded for the glass to be refilled once again. “Like you pointed out, I could skip town.”  
  
“But you’re not afraid of no little girl, right,” the human cheered him on, obviously kissing his ass. And he hated suck ups.  
  
“Of course I’m not scared of the bloody slayer,” he exploded, shoving the slime before him away. “What did I tell you about getting me my drinks?”  
  
“Less talk, more pouring.”  
  
“Right, now will you fucking follow my orders,” Spike growled. Of all the insubordination! Why, back in the good ol’ days, nobody would have thought twice about crossing him. “Anyway, if I can’t run, I have to stay, and I don’t bloody fancy fighting against the pep squad everyday for the rest of my undead life. It’s not that I couldn’t beat them all with one hand tied behind my back…”  
  
“Of course not,” Willy was quick to agree with him.  
  
“It’s just that, well, it’d get lonely.”  
  
Appearing confused, the barkeep said, “I don’t understand, Spike. You lonely? Pswh! You’re the life of the party. Everybody likes you.”  
  
“Yeah, but not everyone can fight like I can, and, eventually, all my mates would fall, and I’d be the only one left standing. There’s be no one left to appreciate me.”  
  
“Oh, I’ll always appreciate you, buddy.”  
  
“Of course you will.” Sighing, the vampire continued to explain his current frame of mind. “It’s the fun of fight that’s always been important to me, the fact that someone is spilling blood. At this point, I really don’t care what color the blood is. Hell, I’d even settle for dust, just as long as someone is dead and I’m left standing at the end of the battle.”  
  
“Well, you’re a survivor,” the bartender stated. “You’ll always win.”  
  
Spike just rolled his eyes. Downing his shot in one gulp, he hit the mahogany of the bar top to signal that he wanted another drink. Things were pretty damn wretched at the moment, but, at least, he still had his good friends whisky, gin, and vodka. Without them, he didn’t know what he would do. He lost Dru, the love of his life, and now, all hell was breaking loose around town. The bad guys were leaving, and the good were rallying. It was all rather disgusting. If his dinner – a petite blonde – hadn’t of been so tasty, he might have tossed his cookies.  
  
The idea of joining ranks with the very people he despised most in the world really burned his biscuits, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to drink pig blood like that damn poof Angel, but what other option did he have? The real reason why he didn’t want to run, despite what he had told his good friend Willy, was that there was nowhere he could hide. The slayer and her hanger-ons would always manage to find him. There really was no rest for the weary. Where was the damn justice in that?  
  
Eventually, Buffy would lose, and, when she did, the world would right itself again. Evil would be on top, sucking the life out of the good, and he’d be free once more to truly be William the Bloody, but, until that night, he’d bide his time and pretend that he had some bloody revelation, pretending to be on some quest to seek redemption. However, his enemies would eventually get theirs, and, when they did, Spike would dance on their graves, throw the biggest fucking party Willy had ever seen, and get so drunk he forgot all about his upcoming Oscar-worthy performance.  
  
After all, he always did things his way… one way or another.


	14. Part Fourteen

**Part Fourteen**

Angel was brooding.  
  
At a distance, an observer would wonder why the intense, souled vampire would have reason to dwell upon the negative aspects of life, for, seemingly, his undead existence had never before been better. The curse upon his demon was fully intact, he had a purpose in fighting evil, and, most importantly, his mate was now by his side and would remain there indefinitely. And Buffy was happy, too. She smiled more, her real, honest, genuine smile that had the power to nearly resurrect his centuries dormant heart, her laugh seemed more enthusiastic, more open, and she no longer felt torn between two lives that mixed about as well as oil and water did. However, there were still fleeting shadows in her expressive, hazel eyes, and those ghosts of discontentment haunted his every waking hour.  
  
There were several things that bothered the slayer turned part vampire, but he knew that it was her mother that troubled the woman he loved the most. To say that Joyce Summers had not taken the news of her teenage daughter’s _elopement_ well would be like saying that Giles kind of liked tweed. As soon as the words had left his mate’s mouth, the only parent she had really known for the past year had shut down upon her. Joyce had refused to listen to anything her only child had to say, immediately giving her an ultimatum. It was either an annulment or she moved out for good, never to come back.  
  
Although moving out had been the plan all along, to hear her own mom order her out of their home had crushed Buffy, and there had been nothing he could do about it at the time. Instead, he just stood by his mate, silently lending her his strength and support as she battled her own insecurities and personal demons face on. There had been no talking to Joyce, no way to reassure her that they weren’t rushing into something foolish or ill-advised. After all, for all intents and purposes, to the single mother, it appeared as though her newly turned seventeen year old daughter was running off with a much older, mysterious, unknown man. She had even questioned whether Buffy was pregnant, further hurting and enraging the blonde.  
  
As soon as the words slipped past Ms. Summer’s thin lips, Angel had witnessed the slayer struggle for control. The feelings of rejection and resentment that the confrontation with her mother was inspiring within Buffy had brought forth the urge for the blonde to reveal her demon. It had not been an antagonistic response but merely a defensive one. Still a fledgling, it was her body’s natural reaction to the fiery situation, and the only thing he had been able to do to calm her down was stand a little closer and rub comforting, soothing circles on the back of her alabaster, porcelain hand, occasionally caressing the piece of jewelry that adorned his mate’s left ring finger.  
  
Eventually, their showdown had ended in a stalemate, both women refusing to back down, and he had led the silent fledgling up to her room for what the Irishman feared to be the last time. While Buffy cried, he had packed, taking everything they could feasibly carry to his apartment. Clothes, shoes, books, stuffed animals, weapons – anything and everything that made Buffy the eternal seventeen year old she was had gone with them that night to their now shared apartment.  
  
Glancing up from the book he was only pretending to read, Angel could still see several unpacked bags that were carelessly thrown onto the floor in an unused corner of the large, solo room. Much of what they had brought with them, the woman he loved had no further use for. Someday, he knew that, together, they would sort through Buffy’s belongings, throwing out or giving away the things she no longer wanted or needed, but, until the slayer was ready for such a physical purging of her old self, her things would remain, haphazardly piled aside. Surprisingly, the clutter really didn’t bother him, but, perhaps, that was because of whom the clutter belonged to.  
  
His mate entirely believed that, someday, she and her mother would be able to work through their problems. She contended that, after Joyce saw how happy they were together and that their decision to marry had not been a hastily made, foolish whim, the art dealer would come around. She would concede that she had been too harsh upon her only daughter and that the two of them would make up. However, he didn’t have as much faith in the Summers women’s penchant for compromise.  
  
If nothing else, their disagreement with Joyce had shown the souled vampire exactly where Buffy’s extreme sense of pride and her stubborn nature came from. At least, in those two aspects, she was exactly like her mother, and, even after they proved to Ms. Summers that they did really love each other and their relationship would last, he didn’t believe that his mate’s mother would admit that she made a mistake in turning her daughter away. Rather, he had the suspicion that the older woman would simply become bitter and would find some other fault to her only child’s actions to hold on to.  
  
However, he didn’t tell this to the woman he loved. Instead, he kept his fears to himself. Someday, when their lives settled down and the hurts of the past no longer stung as much as they did presently, he would talk to the blonde about his doubts, and, someday, when Buffy would have to confront the reality of his misgivings, he would be there, by her side, supporting her, protecting her, loving her – always. Until that point, though, they had other things to worry about, some more pragmatic than others.  
  
Despite the fledgling’s promises to the contrary, Angel was worried about more than just her reaction to her mother’s rejection. While she claimed to have completely weighed her decision to remain a vampire, he agonized over the things such a choice forced her to give up. Or, perhaps, it was more accurate to say that his unease stemmed from his own selfish disappointment.  
  
The idea of never again seeing Buffy in the sunlight nearly brought the Irishman to his knees. After all, one glance at her on the steps of her former school in Los Angeles had been enough to give his entire existence meaning. Before Buffy, he had been struggling to find a reason to not walk into the light and give up eternity once and for all, but, after seeing her for the first time, she brought the light into his dark world. And never before had anything or anyone ever made the sun look so good; never before had anything or anyone ever rivaled the sun’s beauty. But, perhaps, that was why she was forever cursed to live in the dark; maybe the powers had been jealous that a mere human had possessed so much radiance.  
  
Dragging him from his rather sentimental, quixotic thoughts, Angel heard his mate laugh. It was a deep, rich giggle that warmed his otherwise cool skin, washing him in the blonde’s passion for life and tenderness of spirit. While he had been sitting and brooding while pretending to read, she had been studying with her watcher. Since Giles was there with them that evening, the souled demon knew that the woman he loved was reviewing her history. Giles was responsible for teaching the eternally youthful slayer history, he himself was to handle literature, and Willow had agreed to tutor her best friend in the math and sciences, all of them working together to prepare Buffy to take the test for her GED. While she still asserted that such a step was an unnecessary and unwanted headache, the three of them had stood strong, and she had no other choice but to cave to their collective whims. A college degree was their next battle.  
  
Although he had no idea what the intended lesson of the evening concerned, just by glancing at the slayer-watcher pair, Angel knew that it wasn’t progressing according to Giles’ wishes. While his mate appeared entirely pleased with herself, smirking wickedly, the librarian seemed distracted and thrown, confused and baffled. Without even having to ask, he knew that the blonde had said something completely preposterous and flippant, somehow mocking the watcher’s words, but, at the same time, she had probably also managed to bring some playful truth to the lesson, a ludicrous truth not even the British man had been able to deny.  
  
Interrupting his surveillance, Buffy’s amusement, and Giles’ bewilderment, there was a knock at the small flat’s door, immediately stilling and silencing the comfortable group of three. The woman he loved was the first to move, bouncing up and floating across the dimly lit space to answer the door. Though whimsical, there really was no other way to describe the slayer’s movements. They were too energetic to simply say that she stood or that she walked, and they were too graceful to say that she bounded or that she skipped. To Angel, she was an animate if not breathing piece of art.  
  
As the door swung open, it revealed a timid and unsure Oz, perhaps the very last person the souled vampire had been expecting to see. It wasn’t so much because the musician was unwelcome. In fact, of all of Buffy’s friends, Oz made him feel the most comfortable. His surprise didn’t stem from the fact that the guitar player seemed awkward or unnerved around him and his mate. To the contrary, just like with everything else in life, Oz seemed to have taken Buffy’s recent transformation in stride, adjusting well and easily to her new state of being. It was just that they never really saw him unless Willow was there, too, and the slayer’s best friend was nowhere in sight.  
  
“I’m, uh, sorry to just barge in like this… uninvited. I know invitations are especially important in the vamp world.”  
  
The sentence, though awkward and apprehensive, was, maybe, the longest he had ever heard the musician utter.  
  
“No, no, come in,” his mate insisted, ushering the self-conscious, living teen into their apartment. “What’s up? You okay? It’s not Willow, is it?”  
  
With just the articulation of his girlfriend’s name, Oz appeared to settle down some, and he smiled crookedly. “No, she’s good. In fact, she’s at home, preparing your next chemistry lesson. She’s really excited about this whole official tutoring business.”  
  
Glumly, Buffy frowned. “Well, that makes one of us.”  
  
As she collapsed into a chair, Giles stood from his. “Well, if it’s not about Willow, what brings you by,” the watcher inquired. “I highly doubt this is a social call.”  
  
“It’s not,” the musician stated definitively. Shrugging his shoulders and shoving his hands into the front pockets of his baggy jeans, he smirked and tilted his head to the side as if to already dismiss what he was about to say. “I, uh, I think I’m becoming a werewolf actually.”  
  
“Oh my goodness,” the watcher remarked softly, following his slayer’s example and collapsing back onto his chair.  
  
Continuing as if he had not been interrupted, Oz said, “and I thought, if anyone could help me, it’d be you guys – two souled vampires and a guy who knows more about the supernatural than what has to be psychologically recommended. So…”  
  
After several minutes of absolute silence and where the only movement in the room was the ill at ease teenager’s rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Angel was the first to speak. “What exactly do you want us to do?”  
  
“Well, at first, I kind of wanted you to wave a magic wand and make it all disappear.”  
  
“A reasonable if not realistic request,” the librarian stated, removing his glasses for what was sure to be the first of many compulsive lens cleaning endeavors. “And now?”  
  
“Now, I figure this is probably not something you can just erase. I mean, I highly doubt there’s some werewolf cure all pill that will just make this whole mess go away,” Oz remarked. “So, I’m going to need your guys’ help to make the most of the situation.” Meeting the Irishman’s gaze, the guitar player continued. “Containment is my first concern. At this point, I can’t control what’s happening to me, and the last thing I want to do is hurt anyone, especially someone I care about.”  
  
“So, you want us to restrain you,” the centuries old vampire surmised.  
  
“Exactly, but that’s only during the nights around the full moon. During the rest of the time, I want to train. I’ve thought a lot about this, and I realized that, if the two of you can use your supernatural strength and power to fight evil, then why can’t I as well? If I can’t beat this thing, I might as well use it to my and everyone else’s advantage. Plus, three against the rest of the world is better than just two, right?”  
  
“This is all rather extraordinary,” the British man breathed out, evidently lost in his own thoughts. “I mean, what would be the statistics of, first, the slayer turning part vampire and, then, on top of that, one of her few, select friends becoming a werewolf. It’s all quite astounding, really.”  
  
“If you could just forget that you’re a watcher for a few second there, Giles, and focus,” Buffy beseeched the librarian, “that would be great. You can go crunch the numbers and research later. Right now, Oz needs you to focus.”  
  
“Right, right,” the older man agreed, sitting up slightly straighter. “Of course, but you have to admit that it’s all rather mind-boggling.”  
  
Smirking, his mate teased, “I drink blood, and I like it. I really don’t think anything is going to shock me at this point, do you?”  
  
Realizing that the two of them needed to get back on track, Angel asked, “what do you think the council’s stance upon Oz’s… condition will be, Giles?”  
  
“Oh, their usual, narrow minded, intolerable perspective,” the librarian regrettably stated. “I’m afraid, just like with Buffy’s recent transformation, this is something else it will be prudent of us to keep secret from them for as long as possible.”  
  
“So, then, does that mean that you’ll help me,” the musician asked, for the first time since he arrived sounding slightly hopeful.  
  
“Of course we’ll help you,” the eternal seventeen year old promised. “That was never in question, Oz, and it’ll be fun, too, right Angel, training with someone new?”  
  
The older souled vampire smirked. “I don’t know about fun, but it’ll be nice to have someone else around for Buffy to kick the crap out of.” While all three of the males chuckled at his teasing remark, his mate pouted playfully. “Seriously, though, this kind of gives me an idea.”  
  
Rising, he moved to stand behind his chair, positioning his hands onto the back of it and leaning forward. “I’ve been thinking about the future even before you came here tonight,” he addressed the werewolf directly, although his comments were meant for everyone in the room. “If there are three of us here, in Sunnydale, that wish to fight evil and are capable of doing so, then there have to be others in the world as well, and, as you said, we’d be stronger together than apart.”  
  
“So,” Giles asked, his brow wrinkling in thought, “are you proposing that we seek out these other supernatural entities and invite them to join us?”  
  
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Angel answered. “And I think we should make it official, legal… as in a business.”  
  
“Like a detective agency,” Oz asked, “one that would investigate the unexplainable?”  
  
“Well, we already know that you look good in a trench coat,” Buffy ribbed, grinning towards the vampire in question. “Just stick to the leather, though. That’s all I ask.”  
  
Addressing the guitarist’s question, the Irishman responded, “and help the helpless, the hopeless while, at the same time, earning a living. After all, Buffy and I can’t exactly get real jobs, and, after next year, it wouldn’t make much sense for Giles to work at the high school any longer. While Willow, Xander, and Cordelia are in college, they can help out part time, and, as we find new recruits, they would join us.”  
  
Only partially serious, his mate complained, “Xander, really? He is negotiable, right? I mean, all he really does is get snacks, and that’s recently lost its appeal to me.”  
  
“We’ll need more space, a place to run our operations out of,” the watcher remarked, sounding entirely enthusiastic about the souled demon’s proposal and ignoring the slayer’s protests. “And what about start up money? I’m afraid I won’t be able to contribute much. One doesn’t take a job with The Council due to their benefits package, and I think it’s well known just how difficult it is to amass wealth while working in the public school systems.”  
  
“And I tapped out my savings account the last time Willow and I hit the mall,” the blonde added.  
  
“Don’t look at me,” the werewolf warned. “I’m a struggling musician. I’m supposed to be poor.”  
  
“Angelus has money,” Angel revealed, smirking. “And what better way to annoy him than to use his money to help others?”  
  
“So, then, it’s decided,” Buffy announced, moving to stand beside her mate. Taking her lover’s left hand into her right one, she squeezed his fingers before smiling in Oz’s direction. “Welcome to Angel Investigations.” Turning to glare at the agency’s namesake, she warned, “and don’t even think about arguing with me about the title, mister. This was your idea. Besides, I think it’ll be comforting for our clients.”  
  
And he wasn’t going to – argue with her, that was. After all, as he had stated earlier, she was stronger than he was, what with her combined slayer and vampire skills, and she could kick his ass, and, if there was going to be any physical activity between them, Angel much preferred for it to be of a more enjoyable, satisfying nature.  
  
“First thing first,” the fledgling pressed on, “I think we need to discuss our work dress code.” Rattling off her points, she listed, “absolutely no suits. Sorry, Giles. Rule number two: no pink. It would just be wrong. Rule three: we’re not buying coordinating outfits or matching…”  
  
He laughed, drowning out the rest of what his mate had to say. He had no doubt she would tell him again later.  
  
While some things were different, drastically different between them, Buffy was still Buffy – the woman he planned on spending eternity with, and, in that moment, he realized, breathing or not breathing, living or not living, human or vampire, she always would be. While the insight didn’t alleviate all of his worries, it did comfort him somewhat. There would be problems, and issues, and bad times aplenty in the future, but they would handle them together… just as they had handled their shared adverse reaction to his curse. Maybe he wasn’t ready to consider the surprise side effect a blessing in disguise like his mate, but he was getting there, one purely happy moment with Buffy at a time.


End file.
